


Turning Out

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies) RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, Dominance, F/M, Feeding Kink, Kink Negotiation, Praise Kink, RPF, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Slow Build, baby's first slash, real places, so much kink negotiation, sub!Seb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 09:39:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8573398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: If you've never admitted it in private, how do you navigate it when you're in the publiceye?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I totally took this down and now I'm putting it back.  
> I've had one of those get the f*ck over yourself moments.  
> I will try to finish it. Mostly though, I want to apologize to the readers who were nice enough to comment since freaking out and snatching it down wasn't a very generous thing to do -- I'm sorry about that.
> 
> I was going to just post the whole of it so far as one big chapter -- but the formatting got squirrely, so I'm going to try to fix and repost each chapter as quick as I can and then continue.

“SERVICE TOP seeks submissive who needs some TLC.

Imagine you, tied up snug and safe, hand and foot, blindfolded and helplessly melting in trusting

warmth, able to completely let go. Gags possible or optional. Sensory play, role play, bathing,

grooming, feeding top the list of activities. Not seeking fluid exchange or penetrative partners at

this time.

 

Sound like you? Maybe you never dared admit it? This femdom would love to meet and screen a

new potential sub.

 

I’m out and about in the community - message me for a chat.

—Mimi ”

 

Sebastian read through the Fet Life profile intro for what seemed like the billionth time. It was

different. Insane. Several years ago, he would have never thought something like this would

crystalize or sound so perfect, appealing and fraught with hope… But several years ago he’d been

hungry and working his ass off just to keep up with canceled TV show jobs where no one but the

other crew and his agent knew his name.

 

It wasn’t that women weren’t available. They were. And they were beautiful, fun and many of

them that ran in the event and movie circles, quite brilliant. And while he’d always entertained

fantasies about bondage, they had always been something he thought would be indulged

organically, when he met the right person and was in a private, trusting relationship, where he

could admit to his left of center secret — even in the kink community. It wasn’t like the average

dom or sub fit the female-topping-male dynamic, much less craved the unbridled permission to be

gentle and kind to one another. And now with fame, what people said to him and agreed to was

warped. It was hard to tell who was on the up and up, who really knew and understood him and

who was just telling him what they thought he wanted to hear. Closer to impossible to roll out

odd fantasies that hinged on clear communication and trust even when he did find someone he

really wanted to date. Much less navigate the risk that an ex might out him as the super hero with

wussy kinks. Ones that would probably even be warped or misread into being an adult baby.

 

No.

 

Jesus no.

 

But the more the constant activities, the busy schedules, the decisions, the work outs and the long

hours piled up… The more the phone calls and fans must be navigated… The more the idea of

putting someone else in charge was appealing. The fantasies shifted to wanting less stimulation

and more helplessness.

 

But he’d never been a masochist. Sex was always something that was supposed to be fun and

funny, associated with warmth and pleasure. While logically he knew no one controlled how they

were wired and that the pleasure/pain centers were closely linked and that humiliation kinks were

so very common as to almost be a given is D/s dynamics, and truly he held no judgement about

that, he also quite clearly understood that he was not wired that way. If he was open enough to

meet someone who would take him in hand, bind him up, if at that point they then took advantage

and rubbed his nose in it or inflicted pain, he knew he’d never trust again. The damage would be

too severe.

 

He was soft. Empathetic. He knew that, and as emotional intelligence went, it had served him well

in getting jobs, forming friendships with fellow cast and being inexhaustibly kind to his fans and

their enthusiasm.

 

But it was a strange anomaly when it came to the mainstream BDSM scene.

 

And the idea that someone might crave that softness from him — be as equally pleased to take that

control from him — that was almost unfathomable.

 

When Chase had showed him how to be anonymous online with Tor and private browsing to help

him separate his public and private life, he’d settled into lurking on Fet Life as his fantasy outlet.

It was almost as if it were to prove to himself that he was alone, to say, look, here is the

community and you don’t fit the average. It’s really not you.

 

But then, there was this profile, as if someone had reached into the most locked and barricaded

cabinet of his brain and written what amounted to a haiku pressing all of his buttons of longing.

He’d think it was a joke except that he’d never admitted or described his fantasies to anyone.

 

Maybe it wasn’t so weird?

 

He studied her photos.

 

She was chubby faced and short with pale skin and an ample butt. No towering Venus in furs, this

one. She wore thick vintage frame glasses, and a short pixie hair cut that changed colors. In fact,

everything about her changed colors. She seemed to like candy and jewel tones in a profusion,

only highlighted here and there with a bit of black or purple leather fetish accessories, which made

her stand out bright in all the snap shots she’d posted, surrounded by dark walls and people in

black and blood red.

 

Parrots would probably love her, he mused with a smile.

 

Many of the snaps were candid, at what looked like a fetish bar, except that everyone had coffee

and desserts in front of them. Many were at a munch or party, with her taking part. In one she was

cinching a pair of ankles together with emerald green rope, of someone laying on a cranberry

velvet settee, her hand tenderly cupping a heel. In another, she was holding a drink with straw to

the lips of a spent, ragged looking young man who was hanging limp and flushed strapped to a St.

Andrew’s Cross. There were several from this event: her carefully touching a folded washcloth to

the wrecked boy’s sweaty brow. Him burrito wrapped in a blanket and delivered into her lap and

arms on an over stuffed sofa. She was stroking his hair while his head lolled on her shoulder.

Others were of her feeding cherries to a row of kneeling, bound and blindfolded subs; smiling

with sparkling delight at her fingers touching eager lips and tongues. Really, it was all very

silly… …And Sebastian had to admit to his gut response: Cute.

 

Could you apply such a word to this type of activity?

 

Maybe cute was in the eye of the beholder.

 

Obviously, he played out a dozen possibilities of making contact. Maybe having a secret chat —

something to open the box and discover if something sounds to good to be true, as common sense

dictated, it certainly was. Or having that cynical thought be proven oh so wrong. He liked that

fantasy better. Either way, part of feeding it was to read through the vitals provided. She was in

the Bay Area. He was in New York. If anything happened, it would be virtual, and he didn’t think

he could stand that.

 

* * *

 

 

It was the next year, near Halloween and he was in Oakland, prepping for two months of exterior

shoots to be followed with a month or more of pickups depending on some other scheduling

hiccups being ironed out.

 

There was no way she was still single — or did that even have anything to do with it? Maybe

what she offered didn’t have to do with a couple type relationship, but a platonic agreement?

Either way, the night before his flight, he was searching for the profile.

 

“Hello love…” It now began.

 

There were new pictures. A Christmas party with her brushing a bridled boy reindeer. More snap

shots of what, he knew now, was her administering ‘after care’ to various subs after scenes that

weren’t documented. A few phrases of the profile had been expanded, but the invitation was

essentially the same.

 

In ten minutes he’d created an extra email account and found himself registering and writing a

profile of his own — marking it private so it was only visible to those he chose to contact.

I’ve lost my mind.

 

Why? It’s a temporary situation in a town you don’t live in. You haven’t done anything yet.

Maybe nothing will happen. It’s for fun — an adventure. Also, you’re like three times her size.

She has more to fear from you than the other way around, especially since you’re not putting any

pictures up.

 

It wasn’t much. What could he say? He didn’t want to mention his work and he had no practice

in describing his wants. Most of it consisted of him parroting labels he’d heard and read that

seemed to fit him and a list of things he was curious about and several admissions of being very

new, new, new.

 

Mimi: So… I see you’re very new. ;)

 

Tender Wolf: Lol. Sorry, the shortness came with being worried about being recognized. It must

look weird.

 

Mimi: Hmmm. It looks like a lot of new hesitant profiles. I get it. What sort of questions do you

have?

 

In the end, on his third day in Oakland, when the shoot was picking up so early in the morning

he’d elected to sleep in his trailer, he found himself up with his laptop, and he’d done it.

 

He’d messaged her.

 

He’d opted for being as upfront as he could. “I read your profile some time ago and couldn’t get it

out of my head. I’ve never done anything like this and I have a lot of questions and curiosity about

myself and things I find myself wanting. I don’t live in the area, but due to work I found myself

here and remembered you. I’m sorry I don’t have photos — I work in the public eye and it could

be really bad if I were recognized. I totally understand if that means you don’t want to talk to me.

Also, I work in big blocks where I can’t get to a computer or fool with my phone, sometimes for a

day or so, so please if you reply, I will answer, it just might take a little while. Would you be okay

with chatting with a newbie? - Tender Wolf”

 

When he woke to the alarm, there was a message waiting.

 

Mimi: Hello there! I’m a bit here and there myself, but chat away and we’ll play catch as catch

can. :)

 

Thank god he was doing action sequence pick ups and not dialogue or close ups. His heart was

pounding in his throat just reading it and how to respond rented space in his head all day. Anthony

was calling him a space cadet and Chris said he was still jet lagged was all. Both of them had

already been in town for the shoot for weeks.

 

So here he was. And here she was. 2 am, an open chat window and two days of break in front of

him with nothing but gym appointments to keep.

 

Tender Wolf: I can’t think of anything to ask that doesn’t sound really dumb to me now, or

possibly offensive?

 

Mimi: Then may I ask you a question?

 

Tender Wolf: Shoot.

 

Mimi: Did you approach me because I seemed the most friendly and harmless and you have

general questions about BDSM, or did what I outline in my profile appeal to you on a specific

level?

 

Tender Wolf: Wow. I like your questions. Full of info and right to the point. Your profile

specifically spoke to me about things I think about a lot.

 

Mimi: Ah. That’s nice to hear.

 

Tender Wolf: Do you get a lot of the other?

 

Mimi: Yes. And I don’t mind. Really I don’t. But it helps to know which I’m dealing with. I also

get a lot of Doms asking me to play with them so they can foist off their aftercare duties onto me

because of my event pictures. I’m happy to do that - even enjoy doing that - at parties for friends

and whatnot but it’s not a great practice for other close relationships.

 

Tender Wolf: Oh? So you tell them no?

 

Mimi: Often. I’m looking for a good fit in partner for me, not to fill in someone else’s gaps, you

know?

 

Tender Wolf: I think so. I promise I’m not a lazy Dom. I’m not sure what I am.

 

Mimi: How so? You knew you wanted to chat with me. What in my profile made you want that?

 

Tender Wolf: …

Tender Wolf: …

Tender Wolf: …

 

Mimi: Still there? Typing is the first step to being able to say it.

 

Tender Wolf: Is it normal?

 

Mimi: Is what normal?

 

Tender Wolf: For a guy to be submissive but not want to be humiliated or hurt?

 

Mimi: Is that what you like to imagine?

 

Tender Wolf: …

Tender Wolf: …

Tender Wolf: Yes.

 

Mimi: There’s no way to measure normal vs not normal. There’s nothing wrong with what you

want. It’s lovely and it’s harmless and you deserve to express or pursue your desires if you chose.

 

Tender Wolf: If I got a day off, or some time off, would you want to meet up? Just to talk, like in a

public place? Anywhere you like.

 

Mimi: I go to the rope meet ups at Wicked Grounds on Weds. That’s usually where I let

acquaintances meet me.

 

Tender Wolf: I don’t think I should go to a kink hangout. I get recognized sometimes.

 

Mimi: What do you do exactly?

 

Tender Wolf: I work in film.

 

Mimi: Intriguing. So a tour of the Armoury is out too, huh?

 

Tender Wolf: What’s the Armoury?

 

Mimi: That silence is me giggling at you. And you work in film! You’ll get a laugh googling it

later. Sorry, sorry. Okay… Do you like ice cream?

 

Tender Wolf: Is this a trick question? Everyone likes ice cream. :)

 

Mimi: Perfect. Every been to Smitten? Promise it’s not part of the scene. Just ice cream. Very

public. It’s always busy, but it’s outdoors with lots of spread out benches where it’s easy to talk.

 

* * *

 

 

And here he was. Saturday night in San Francisco, sitting on a bench in the October chill, talking

to a live human being from the internet.

 

She’d smiled easily when he’d approached and asked “Mimi?” but her face betrayed no sign of

recognition. That was something of a relief. They made small talk while navigating the line and

choosing flavors. Sebastian’s post work-out euphoria and hunger had burned through his bland

chicken breast dinner and he was sure others could hear his stomach growl at the sweets over the

sound of the drone of the liquid nitrogen mixers.

 

He’d paid for her strawberries and cream and his funny Earl Grey with chocolate chips before

they meandered out and found a bench a little ways away from the crowded line. The cold

weather played in their favor; most customers crowded into the little heated vinyl screened patio or

drifted to nearby indoor businesses. Both of them, bundled up, were ready for the weather and

able to have some privacy, still within reach of the crowd. They straddled the bench so they could

see each other to talk.

 

“Communication is key. It’s all Kabuki. Or rehearsed like acting.”

 

“So people don’t get to know each other well enough to play it by ear?”

 

“Partners certainly do, but in a public forum, scenes are totally planned. You don’t go off script.

That’s one of the things that trips people up and isn’t safe. When people make assumptions about

what is or isn’t okay and just plow ahead. That coupled with people confusing toys and tools with

the actual act, or being the means to make it happen is where people get hurt. Communication and

using what you learn from it is what makes it work.”

 

The corner of his mouth crooked up. This petite woman, dressed in a purple furry mohair coat

with teal chrysanthemums covering her head, was delicately plucking slivered strawberries from

her cup and telling him without so much as a blush, bondage negotiation dynamics.

 

“What do you mean confusing toys with the act?”

 

“Mmm.” She finished her bite. “Often people think, okay, I’ve got handcuffs, I chain them to the

bed and that’s dominance and submission, but in reality, both are still preoccupied with all the

other things they do or don’t like about their sex with each other, plus now they are both winging

it believing magic is supposed to happen because bondage has been introduced. If both of them

focused on their roles, the handcuffs wouldn’t matter.”

 

“But what if the fantasy is to be tied up?”

 

“If your fantasy was to be tied up, would you feel comfortable letting me handcuff you to a bed

right now?”

 

He laughed and shook his head. “Too fast.”

 

“And too helpless. No one has built their roles or their trust. No one has nurtured the comfort level

for intimacy. It becomes an invasion. But if you break it down and communicate, you can make

spicy little games with almost zero risk, no props necessary.”

 

His eyes cut to a group of girls jumping in line and being loud before he looked back at Mimi.

“That sounds… a little like an invitation?”

 

“Good ear.” She smiled. “I mentioned in my profile I enjoy feeding. Would you like to try my ice

cream? You may call me Miss.”

 

He ducked his head, laughing quietly, until he looked up and met her clear sweetly smiling gaze

and froze. He smiled back and licked his lips, still nervous. “Yes, Miss.”

 

It felt like a joke.

Sort of.

 

“Will you do exactly as a I say for a taste? Just a bite.”

 

“Yes, Miss.”

 

“Place your hands at your sides and keep them there for me.” She said quietly.

 

Setting his cup on the bench between them, he dropped his arms to his sides instantly and felt an

almost involuntary intake of breath.

 

“Good. Perfect. Please close your eyes for me.”

 

His eyes immediately closed.

 

“Tell me, would you like some strawberry with your ice cream?”

 

He nodded.

 

“Use your words.”

 

“Yes, please Miss.”

 

“I want to watch you savor it when I give it to you. Now open your mouth.”

 

It was a small thing, a little spoonful of sweet cream with a sliver of tart fruit on top, but he took it

gently on his tongue, focused on so many conflicting sensations. Cold. Delicious. A twinge in his

center… He struggled to stifle a deep involuntary shudder up his back.

 

“Open your eyes.”

 

She was smiling at him as though they’d exchanged a funny secret and Sebastian was laughing in

disbelief, his face burning. “You. You’re bossy.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Guilty as charged.” She grinned. “But did you feel unsafe? We just played a

game and you could walk away or stop anytime — nothing in your way. We communicated our

goal — a bite of ice cream — took our roles and I walked you through it.”

 

“Yeah.” He laughed again. “It was good.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was later still, and they’d meandered towards a coffee place to warm up.

 

“What would I have seen?”

 

“Do you watch super hero movies?”

 

She cut her eyes. “Is it bad if I haven’t really?” She grimaced. “It’s not a personal preference so

much, but newer action movies on the big screen can make me queasy. Like motion sickness.”

 

“Then you probably wouldn’t have seen me — I did a couple horror movies too. Small stuff.”

 

“Don’t dodge. You said super hero. And that means spandex costumes and silly villains, which I

LOVE. You have no idea. Spill. SPILL.”

 

He paused to open the coffee bar’s door for her when two women came tumbling out, cutting up

against each other. “Oh god. Rude! Thank you!”

 

“Of course. Careful now.” He gave them a smile before offering the entrance to Mimi.

 

The women hadn’t gone four steps away when they spun around. “Wait. Are you? I knew it. I

knew I knew that face!”

 

“Oh my god.” The other had trotted up to clasp his shoulder and turned to her friend. “Look at

him. Could we get a picture?”

 

“This is not happening. And I’m so fucking drunk. I don’t believe this — really, I’m sorry. We

were trying to sober up and holy shit now we’re just grabbing you and you’re perfect.” She joined

her friend on the other side of him and thrust her phone at Mimi to take the picture. “God thanks

so much.”

 

By now a number of people in the cafe’s window were watching.

 

As the women tottered off down the street, Sebastian gave Mimi a sheepish look.

 

“Captain America, huh?”

 

“His friend. Not Cap.” He clarified.

 

“Right. Winter Soldier.” She nodded, smirking and strode through the door as he reopened it for

her. “I’ve got a date with the VOD later I guess.”

 

“Not required.”

 

“Spandex?”

 

“I’m going to let it be a surprise.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay, so as a kid, what’s the first thing you remember pressing the button for you? Like that

made you think, gosh, that makes me feel funny but I kinda like it?”

 

He huffed and rubbed his face. “As a kid?”

 

“Well, I’m assuming this isn’t new. Not like in the last couple years?”

 

“What was it for you?”

 

“Fine. Deflect. Did you ever watch the old Batman TV show - the reruns?”

 

“I saw some of that movie with Adam West.”

 

“Same thing. The TV show was more of the same. But nine times out of ten, the villains were

catching them, especially poor Robin, and tying them up. It was like James Bond torture but

incredibly silly, like I think it was the Penguin that was going to freeze them into snow cones

once? But every time poor Burt Ward got trussed up, I wanted to go save him. Not untie him. Just

save him for myself. I figured I could make him like it. Or he already did because he was doing

this show— the whole thing seemed like make-believe already.” She grinned. “Anything like that

for you?”

 

“I don’t remember anything I watched, but…” He looked down, huffed another laugh awkwardly.

“Okay. These kids I was playing with, right before one of our moves. We were playing cops and

robbers or something, and I don’t think they liked me very much — or maybe they were being

bullies because I was about to leave? I don’t know. But I ended up being the prisoner. They tied

me up with a bunch of jump ropes and bandanas and left me in the garage and I just kind of went

— I don’t know. Limp?” He drew a few circles on the table top in his water glass sweat. “The

older brother found me and he couldn’t get the knots undone, and he carried me in the house and

got scissors and he kept talking to me. Making me talk to him, while he got me loose. I realize

now, that scared the shit out of him and he thought I was in shock, but all I could think about was

what it felt like, unable to move. His arms under me carrying me away. It was all hazy and warm

and he was being so nice to me. I couldn’t stop trying to imagine it again after wards.”

 

He had never told anyone this story and it surprised him to hear it come out of him now. Mimi

hadn’t stopped watching his face, his eyes, and her look was kind. Not finding humor. Not

judgmental.

 

“How did you do this? Get here, where you just go to these places and do these things and you

don’t care what anyone thinks?”

 

Her smirk returned and she made a show of hemming and hawing. “I’m a short chubby goof.

Why would anyone care what I do? I don’t know. That’s not a good answer. Did you ever tell

anyone how being tied up made you feel?”

 

“God no. All those guys begged me not to tell on them. Made me promise not to tell what they’d

done or they’d get in trouble.”

 

“But later, it never came up talking to anyone you were with intimately?”

 

He flinched and shook his head.

 

She nodded slowly. “See, I think for me in a way I saw reflections of it in a way I could laugh at

myself. Batman is silly, but the wink and nod stuff was right out there in the open on TV. Maybe

that made it more okay to just let go and be myself. It was never a cloak and dagger thing and the

forbidden part was more ‘oh gosh haha this is so embarrassing’ instead of shameful. I’m not

making light of it — I feel really lucky I didn’t get saddled with shame like religious baggage or

that sort of thing. The other part — the not being a big bad bossy spank-your-ass dom on the other

hand. I just had to own that and find my own niche. That was harder for me.”

 

He gave her a curious look at that.

 

“A lot of anything women do gets critiqued and labeled. If you’re a vagina-haver you sort of tune

into that more. ‘Don’t be such a girl.’ ‘Don’t be a wuss.’ ‘You want your mommy?’. To a guy

those are insults, but my people are those things, you know. The object. The source. Anyway, to

me it was this idea that it wasn’t okay to be nice. No one wanted to ask to be taken care of and

show weakness, I guess. Also, when I was younger, I bought into letting the guy drive the makeout

sessions and that was a total bust. Talk about not knowing yourself.”

 

“What changed it?”

 

“I was hanging around my friend’s ex boyfriend. We were still being buddy buddy and he would

take me to lunch from high school. Anyway, this one day we were alone at his place and we had a

little while before I needed to get back to school. He was older —out of high school. Anyway, he

says, ‘you’re going to do something for me’ and he sat me down on this bench and he folded

himself up in my lap, head on my shoulder and molded my arms around him and made me hold

him. I was too busy trying to figure out this totally out of left field behavior to enjoy it any — but

later it made me realize I wasn’t the only one feeling like they couldn’t speak up and say what

their flavor of ice cream was, you know? Here was someone treating wanting a hug surreptitiously

like he was doing something shameful — and also taking it from someone. Not asking. Seeing an

opportunity and making me do it without explanation like he was a creepy uncle getting a kid to

touch his pee pee. How sad is that? People want a lot of different things. But sometimes they feel

like it’s only okay to say they want what everyone else has already mentioned or talked about.”

 

By the time they finished coffee, it was almost 4 am. He sprang for cabs.

 

“This how they do it in Hollywood?” She laughed.

 

“New York actually. It’s late. Think of it like me walking you home.”

 

“Thank you. That’s sweet. It was good talking to you.”

 

“Would you want to chat online some more? Or do this again?”

 

She smiled. “I would.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

The shoot and workouts with his trainer ate up the next few days, and Sebastian only had time to

message Mimi a thank you for the meeting and explain a little about his upcoming schedule.

 

Mimi: It sounds like it’s more predictable than mine. ;)

 

Tender Wolf: They map out chunks of it pretty tight, and then swap stuff around if the weather or

something else goes wrong. Are you free Wednesday night?

 

Mimi: I have the rope meet up at Wicked Grounds. Want to come watch some human macramé?

 

Tender Wolf: It sounds great, but I don’t think I should.

 

He waited, his brain wrestling somewhere between disbelief and disappointment to be countered

so fast by something so routine and elective. Couldn’t she just go to the next meeting? Maybe she

didn’t have that good of a time the other night after all? Didn’t she recognize how short his time in

town was, and especially what fraction of that was free time?

 

…And wasn’t he just a total entitled asshole for wondering. That was exactly it. He wasn’t

sticking around, so good time or not, she wasn’t beholden to upend her commitments to suit him.

 

Tender Wolf: How late does it go? Would you want to meet afterwards?

 

* * *

 

 

“You mind if we run a little errand first?” Mimi tugged her collar up against the wind and

shrugged the strap of what looked like an vinyl American Airlines bag up her shoulder. The

corner of her mouth hitched up when she saw him hesitate. “Nowhere racy. Promise.”

 

He blew his cheeks out, huffed and laughed. “Am I that obvious?”

 

“You met me three whole blocks uptown from the coffee shop. I promise you, no one gets

branded with a scarlet K just for setting foot on Folsom.” She grinned. “I mean, you know, not

unwillingly.”

 

“Sorry. You know, I just…”

 

“I’m messing with you. C’mon. I need to grab some stuff for Halloween for a friend. It’s near

Mission — there’s lots of places we could get a drink or dinner near there. Have you eaten?”

 

On the way, Mimi picked his brain asking questions about the shoot. Apparently, in the interim,

she’d caught the first CA movie. “Please tell me you kept some of those costumes? Can you do

that? Did you keep that brown uniform?”

 

He shook his head following her into a large junk shop near Market. “I mean, sometimes you can.

But no.” He laughed as she made a woebegone face. “I think they recycled everything for the

stuff in the Smithsonian scenes.”

 

He didn’t mind talking about work. Last time, she’d been patient enough to let him ask a jillion

questions. But still… He wanted another chance at that. In the meantime, he’d thought of so many

more, and then, tonight opening with his unwillingness to set foot in one of her regular

hangouts…

 

The store they’d entered was packed with trendy midcentury furniture, but also all manner of

vintage flotsam and jetsam: Burgundy and gold Masonic lodge banners and fez hats, moth-eaten

taxidermy, a weathered wooden frieze of a cherub that looked like it had been pried off an old

carousel. Sebastian looked around curiously before seeing Mimi make a b-line for a low shelf of

jars and mixed glassware. Coming closer, he could see that she was crouched rummaging

through old chemistry equipment.

 

“My friend’s bartending at this Halloween ball.” Mimi explained. “I told him I’d help him

mad scientist up the back bar, you know?”

 

“Oh hell yes.” He dropped to his knees to join her.

 

Soon both of them were pulling out beakers, flasks, and other curiously shaped unidentifiable

pieces. Sebastian crawled into the shelves, spying something large. “Wait, wait, you definitely

need this.” He lifted out a volleyball-size reagent vessel that looked like a globe with three large

necks.

 

“Oh man, you win. Mission accomplished. That thing is beautiful. You should come to the ball —

I bet I can get you a ticket.”

 

“Where is it?”

 

“The Armory.”

 

He grinned and shook his head. “Bad idea.”

 

* * *

 

 

He couldn’t stand it anymore.

 

“So. Ah. What about sex?”

 

Mimi stopped chewing her burrito in mid-bite and stared at him. She swallowed the chunk and

took a sip of her tea. “Honey, if that was an invitation, I really thought you’d come off as a whole

lot smoother.”

 

He groaned and hung his head over his plate. “That’s not what I meant.”

 

“I know.” She smirked. “I’ve been having a private little bet with myself to see how long it would

take you to bring up what you wanted to talk about. Also, I thought you probably didn’t want to

parade down the street in a discussion like that.”

 

He glanced around at the small taco place. Loud hip hop music was playing in the front and

virtually no one was sitting near them.

 

“Okay. Yeah.” He nodded feeling his cheeks color. “You’re right about that. I don’t know why

I’m so nervous. I just have a lot of questions.” He frowned.

 

She nodded, pushing her plate aside, breezy air dropping away. “Then let’s dig in. What about

sex?”

 

Seb twisted his mouth, unsure how to begin, but looked at her directly. “Your profile. You said

you weren’t interested in penetration or fluid exchange. So, you’re not looking for a sex partner?

Wait. That sounded wrong. It’s that… That…”

 

Damn. Suddenly this was very hard. He realized last time they’d met up, she’d been so

accommodating, leading him into the conversation and prompting him. This time she was making

him steer them there. Making him come up with his own words. Making him say and frame

everything. Was that intentional?

 

“Take a breath. Take your time.” Mimi reached across the table and lightly set her hand over the

back of his that was clenched in a fist.

 

“Does it always have to be about sex? I mean for anyone. Are kinks just buttons for foreplay?”

 

She nodded — not in agreement, but in the sense that she understood what he was getting at.

“You mean like the goal is a genital orgasm. Like ‘make me wanna stick the thing in the thing ‘

and have that feel awesome and solely that?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Is thinking about it like that what you do?”

 

“N-no.”

 

“From what you’d told me, I didn’t think so.” She pursed her lips and rubbed his hand.

 

“Is that normal?”

 

“Honestly, I think if you quizzed a lot of people on the street, they’d make you think it’s not.”

 

“But you don’t agree.”

 

“Definitely not. It’s not my experience. The body is capable of a lot of different euphoric and

satisfying feelings that aren’t necessarily a genital orgasm - even if they might be linked or blended

or just similar. It’s just we don’t have a lot of specific words and language to describe and explain

them maybe? They’re all still normal.”

 

His eyes darted to the table then met hers again. The small amount of his food he’d eaten sat like a

rock in his center and his mouth was dry. “You said you weren’t interested in fluid exchange or

penetration right now — so you aren’t…?”

 

“Aren’t what? Dating for a sex partner?”

 

“Is that the wrong way to interpret that?”

 

“Yes and no. If you mean traditional stick the thing in the thing sex, then no, I’m not dating for a

partner. I do however think of other touching and contact as sex and sexual that doesn’t involve

deep mouth kissing or penetration with digits, genitals or toys.” She said patiently. “But I don’t

feel like that’s all or what exactly you’re asking me…”

 

“You are wanting to date for a relationship.”

 

She tilted her head, a strange expression flitting over her face. “Yes. Very much so. Sex is easy.

Intimacy’s not.” She said in a low voice.

 

He pursed his lips, debating about saying or shoving down his next question.

 

“What is it?”

 

Frowning, he straightened. “Before then. Since you knew I’m only in town for work. You were

being friendly to the new guy —but you don’t want to…”

 

She fixed her look and said firmly. “I’m aware of a lot of our other differences besides just where

we live. So yes, I met up with you to be friendly and check you out and also to be just as guarded

as anyone else looking for a relationship. I liked talking to you —“ She softened a little. “If there’s

something you want to ask — just do it.”

 

“Would you tell me how to start?”

 

“How to start with someone else, or are you asking if I’ll take you in hand? Tell me what you

want.”

 

“You. I - I want. I want what you said in your profile. At least to try it and know if it’s me or just

something stuck in my head. I always think about that feeling…Does that make sense?” He stared

across the table, heart racing that the offer was out there in the open.

 

Mimi studied him slowly, her face not unkind, but not readable either.

 

Was he a complete asshole for asking? Wasn’t he essentially saying, hey, I get that I’m not

available to meet your criteria, but cater to my wants anyway? Or maybe even wondering that was

patronizing too. They were both adults — and in his mind, she’d already weighed pros and cons

and made harder decisions to do what she wanted in life.

 

“I’m willing to help you try a few things, but first we need to establish some ground rules.”


	3. Chapter 3

Ground rules.

 

Sebastian nodded. “Of course.”

 

Dinner, only partially eaten, was forgotten in favor of finding a notebook, pen and a quieter place

to sit — no mean feat in the city. Sebastian resisted the urge to suggest the hotel lounge or his

trailer on set, even if it was just for a private conversation.

 

“This is much better,” Mimi sighed, settling in a coffee shop corner with a fresh drink. She folded

back the cover of the notebook, but didn’t write anything. “That story you told me before, will

you tell me how they tied you?”

 

He immediately turned red and caught himself looking away involuntarily. He forced his eyes

back to hers. “How?”

 

“Yes. Like the position. Hands behind the back? You said the older brother carried you — so I’m

guessing they tied you to yourself, not to a chair or anything?”

 

He blinked. “Yeah.” He nodded. This made sense. She wanted details of what had stuck the idea

in his head — what produced the first feelings. “It was with my arms down, not behind. I guess

like a mummy. It seemed like they were trying to see how much rope they could get around me.”

 

She smiled a little at that. “Torso and legs?”

 

He nodded.

 

“Did any of it hurt?”

 

He shook his head. “No. It was like being squeezed when I moved though. And one of my feet

was asleep when I got loose.”

 

She made a small frown at that, but didn’t comment. “Is being tied up like that something you’d

want to recreate eventually? You know, without the being abandoned in a garage part?”

 

He was still beet red, but he cracked a smile and nodded.

 

“Use your words.”

 

“Yes Miss.”

 

“I love a fast learner.” She winked at him and began to write a list in the notebook. “I’m going to

put down the basics and then we can add and discuss. You can have the notebook and I’ll take a

picture with my phone. Sound good?”

 

He nodded, feeling himself grinning, and tried to read over her moving hand.

 

“Okay…” She spun the book around for him to read:

 

1\. We go slow. Even if everything feels good, we leave time to process between sessions.

2\. If we can’t say it, we don’t do it.

3\. Each of us will use a trusted friend or alert like Kite String to check in for safety. We don’t

share names or passwords with each other for these.

4\. We decide and discuss and agree what to try and how far we will go for each session and

stick to it. No adding on in mid scene. Bright ideas can wait till next time.

5\. If something happens and we break the scene, we stop.

6\. We check in using the stop light system. Green means go. Yellow - pause, catch our breath

and assess. Red - all bonds off, full stop, no reasons/judgement needed.

7\. We can discuss previous sessions outside of scene.

 

“What’s ‘Kite String’ ?” He tapped number three.

 

“You’ve heard of going on a date and telling a friend to text you to check in and make sure

everything is okay?”

 

“I’ve heard of doing it for an excuse to escape a bad blind date.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Kite String is an app that you can set up to call or message emergency

numbers if you don’t check in with it. It’ll call the police or your mom, or whatever you want.

You don’t have to use that one though — there’s several apps. Pick one. Or pick a friend to tell

where you are.”

 

“Did you use it to meet me?”

 

She shrugged and held up her phone. On screen was a message thread from someone named

Paula asking if she was having fun. “I should warn you, she’s a black belt in pilates. Look, it’s just

a trust and safety rule — like for transparency. It doesn’t matter whether you’re really worried -

you just do it.”

 

Nodding, he made a note on his phone. “I’ll look up the app then.”

 

He wanted to know exactly what scene and session meant and what it meant to break a scene, but

mostly though, the outline was similar to things he’d read online.

 

“Going back to what we were talking about earlier. Just to clarify — you’ve never done anything

like this?”

 

“I had a girlfriend pull out handcuffs once, but I couldn’t get into it.”

 

“On you or her?”

 

“Her. It felt wrong.”

 

“Ok, and you said something on the lines of ‘find out if it’s you?’” She fixed him in the eye.

 

He felt a little worried at this. “…Yeah.”

 

Mimi nodded and softened her voice. “Have you ever played around? Tried to tie yourself up?”

 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Seb knew it took one to know one. He flushed red again, but

at the same time felt like he was finally talking to someone about a long shared secret. “A couple

times. Just my legs. It felt okay — but I was afraid to do more than that. You know, of getting

stuck or worse.”

 

“It’s totally happened to people. I’m glad you were safe about it.” She pursed her lips. “Ok.

Here’s the deal. Sometimes when people have thought about stuff like this a long time, but they’ve

never done anything, the reality of the experience is way different than the fantasy. But they get

excited and plow right in and try anything and everything and then the next morning, they’re

rocking in a corner flipping out and feeling violated and weird and awful. You want to try to

recreate the sensation you had as a kid — so that’ll be the goal. But I want to treat it like we’re

starting at square one. We’re going to go slow and do small stuff to get there. You’ll have time to

process, and know whether you want to keep going.”

 

“Is that what they mean by training?”

 

“Mmm. This is more like an experiment to see what happens. A voyage of discovery.” She gave

him a cheerful smile. “You know, to see if you’re up for training.”

 

Sebastian laughed. “Okay, but…” He paused, trying to phrase it and also recognizing it was

hardly something he’d verbalized outside the moment with other women. “But what about you?

All we’ve talked about is me — you picking my brain on what I want. And I appreciate that, but

you listed things you wanted in your profile.”

 

Mimi’s smile broadened and she looked a little struck. “Oh, I knew I liked you. So sweet.” She

reached over to chuck his chin. “What I really like is putting a sub in bondage - watching them go

under and let go. There’s a super selfish reason I’m a regular at the rope meet up. So a lot of my

fun is sort of baked into the cake on this deal.”

 

“What about the other things?”

 

She considered this. “You seemed to like the ice cream game the other night. Was there something

I mentioned that was a hard pass?”

 

“No.”

 

“Anything appealing?”

 

An embarrassed smile crept over his face.

 

“Well alright then. I’ll throw some extra-curricular games into the activities. Anyway, enough

rules and regs.” She scooted over on her side of the booth and patted the seat. “Want to come over

here and flip through the Boy Scout manual? See what looks interesting?” Swiping and tapping at

her phone she pulled up an ebook with photos of various ties being demonstrated step by step and

showed this to him.

 

Sebastian grinned. “Yeah.”

* * *

 

Later as they walked to the Mission Street BART, Sebastian toyed with the notebook, letting his

eyes travel down the list again.

 

“You didn’t write down the part you had in your profile.”

 

Her brow furrowed. “Which part?”

 

For some reason now, it felt more awkward to bring it up. “The part about fluid exchange or

penetration.”

 

“Oh, good point. Thanks.” She took the book and bent to write in the addition. “That’s a two-way

street by the way. Hand to god, I promise I won’t try to penetrate you either.” She gave him a

wink.

 

“That’s not actually what I was concerned about.”

 

“Oh? Then what?”

 

“No kissing?”

 

She didn’t miss a beat. “No mutual open-mouthed wet kissing. Individual open mouths on body

parts are fine if we get that far with sensory play.”

 

“You don’t like kissing?”

 

“I love it. Neck kisses. Thigh kisses. Soft-on-closed-lips kisses.”

 

This was unexpected, but clarifying boundaries was part of this, right? He was asking her for

attention and favor — it didn’t seem right to also demand the how and why of her preferences.

But still. “Is it a health thing?”

 

She shook her head. “Nah. I’ve been tested recently and safe this way for a while — totally cootie

free. And you?”

 

“I’m good. I mean, I’m clear.” He shifted and studied her face — he hoped casually — but her

eyes were bright, happy and matter-of-fact.

 

“Look, it’s a bossy dom control thing. Only the big obvious stuff is off the menu. If we’re fooling

around I’m not going to break scene over little grey areas like both of us kissing the same area, or

finger sucking or sweat or even some oral if we’re using condoms or staying on the surface. If

there’s any doubt on something, we can play ‘Mother May I?’ in the moment. Does that help?”

 

He nodded. But he _liked_ kissing. The whole engulfing sensation, wet and warm… the closeness

and taste and the dreamlike way he could lose himself in it...

 

And there it was.

 

She wasn’t planning to let go in this arrangement, and relationship intimacy had already been

taken off the table.

 

Taking the notebook back, he tucked it in his bag as they jogged down the subway steps. It made

sense really. She had a right to gatekeep about anything sensitive — to protect herself. Also, in

the big picture, they were on the same page about so many desires, it seemed petty for him to feel

cheated or restricted out of just one thing.

 

Where the platform divided for Oakland, they stopped and he took her hand. “Miss, may I give

you a kiss?”

 

She smiled and touched her finger to her cheek, directing him.

 

He softly pecked her cheek.

 

The finger moved to her lips, and bending forward, he leaned in and very gently touched his

closed lips to hers in the softest of kisses. But it still felt warm and made his middle stir.

 

“Good boy.”


	4. Chapter 4

Mimi’s apartment was the back half of a transition Victorian in Sunset. It was small and what had

remained of the original arts and crafts features had been painted over or altered by decades of

previous tenants. Arriving, Sebastian had briefly wondered if there would be any dungeon-like

trappings — which made him feel ridiculous — picturing one of those dumb comedies where a

suburbanite has to enter a biker bar. But it was just like anyone else’s apartment. In deference to

the size, she didn’t keep a lot of clutter. A couple bookcases, light colors and comfortable but only

essential furnishings. The most striking feature was a metal spiral staircase to the loft bedroom that

had been added in when the house was split into apartments - it had been spray painted purple.

She showed him around the downstairs and made them coffee. Settling on the couch, Mimi sipped

hers,“Show me the rescue app on your phone?”

 

“Oh. Right.” He fished it out and swiped at the screen. “I found this one…” He held it up so she

could see the logo: A cartoon St. Bernard with a little timer counting on the barrel around his

neck.

 

She smiled. “Good choice.”

 

* * *

 

Sebastian tugged at his wrists reflexively, looking at the carefully laid bands of blue rope running

up them, yoking them together. Mimi still had one finger under the knot work, checking the room

she’d left for circulation, but she plucked it quickly out feeling the cord bind down.

 

“Sorry. Sorry.”

 

She spread a hand over his and put the other on his shoulder. “You’re fine. How are you doing?”

 

“I’m okay. Green. Green.” He felt like he was practicing saying the word. Why was he so

freaking jittery? They weren’t even fooling around or doing anything. This was nothing.

 

So far Mimi had only introduced him to the hemp cord and showed him a basic wrist tie they

would try. They were sitting on her couch with the remains of coffee and cookies and several

photo books open on the table before them — it looked more like a tea party than the enacting of

some racy fantasy. Mimi reiterated what they’d agreed to for a first session: To try some in-the front

wrist work, to begin with bow knots he would demonstrate that he could undo himself and

then if, and only if he was comfortable, they could try behind the back. Fully clothed. Any petting

or caresses were to be on the head, arms or trunk — all above the waist and not on sensitive

areas…

 

“You look a little yellow.”

 

Sebastian blushed and twisted his head down and away, laughing. “I’m fine. Jesus. Really. I don’t

know why… Why…” His hands and the top of his head felt cool and tingly and his words came

out too fast. “Shit. Why am I so shaky?”

 

“Eyes here.” Her hands remained solidly one over his, one still on his shoulder.

 

He met her gaze, huffing quick breaths and laughing nervously at himself.

 

“You’ve thought about this a long long time, haven’t you?” She said calmly.

 

“Yes, Miss.” He managed.

 

“Totally normal. Lots of build up. Lots of anticipation. You’re doing really good.” Her voice was

even and soothing. “Take a slow deep breath. Count to six, and let it out. Do it with me.”

He held her gaze, eyes a little wide at how he automatically did as she told him, immediately

following along with her count and feeling his chest fill. He’d been so busy trying to talk and

laugh it off, he didn’t even realize how light-headed he’d gotten.

 

She was smiling at him, studying his eyes, glancing down at his wrists, and gently running her

hand from his shoulder to massage the back of his neck a little. “Perfect. A few more now… Very

good…”

 

Just the act of giving up on conversation and taking direction seemed to help him settle. Help him

calm and focus.

 

“Why… Why do they cross them?” He straightened up from the couch and pointed awkwardly to

one of the photo books they had open on the coffee table.

 

Mimi followed his gaze to a snapshot of a sub sitting in a chair, legs crossed at the ankle and tied

this way.

 

“Psychology. Your body knows you can’t stand if you’re tied with them one over the other.

Makes you feel that much more helpless. Eventually, if you feel like it, we can try that out and you

can let me know if it’s true for you.” She smiled at him affectionately and smoothed his hair.

“Show me how you can undo your hands now.”

 

Even though playing with knots he could undo and experimenting with his wrists in front seemed

ridiculously small — especially compared to the elaborate ideas that had spooled out in his head

over the years, as they went through the motions, it became very obvious to him why Mimi had

insisted on going slow.

 

His head was flipping over and his heart pounded so hard it had to be audible. He was actually

doing this.

 

How ridiculous was his reaction? He’d done sex scenes. Been bolted into prop chairs with superhero-size restraints… Worn that crazy black leather flak suit and muzzle that was more straps than a garment. And all that had been make-believe too, right?

But he hadn’t written the script. Hadn’t negotiated wanting those things with another person as

something to do out of kindness and generosity for one another. Acting was transactional. His

paying job.

 

This was something else. This was really being exposed. Naked.

 

Wrists loose, he coiled up the rope and offered it to Mimi.

 

“Look at you. Like Harry Houdini.” She lifted his hand and kissed the faint red lines on his wrists

from the cord’s pressure before setting the rope aside. “For that you get a little breather, okay?”

 

She patted the back of the sofa and he obediently sat back, relaxing. “So sweet. Good boy.”

 

Lifting his hand, she began to massage his palm, wrist and forearm and Seb blinked at her,

surprised that he actually felt a little spent.

 

He watched her as she worked. Then a weird thought occurred to him and he began to draw his

hand back: she immediately opened hers to let him, smiling at him gently.

 

Reaching over, he picked up the rope and set it on her knee, then still slumped back on the couch,

offered both of his wrists up to her, blinking at her from under hooded eyes.

 

She laced his hands back together, meeting and holding his gaze as she tied a true knot. “Color?”

 

“Green.”

 

“Can you take it off?”

 

He twisted and pulled, before huffing and feeling his face go hot.

 

“No.” He admitted.

 

“Color?”

 

“Green.”

 

Her hands rubbed over his forearms, then she settled on her side up next to him and carded her

fingers through his hair. “You look so sweet. I don’t know if I want to do behind the back and

make you sit up. I like you like this to much.”

 

It was different now. Different than the nerves and jitters and weird shaky feeling. He shifted in

the softness of the cushions and tugged at his wrists just enough to feel the rope holding him.

Mimi tilted her head to the side, resting it on her arm as she kept slowly petting him with her other

hand and murmuring praise. The hot flush in his cheeks had faded, and instead he felt the calm

warmth in his center — not big. But there. The sensation he wanted.

 

His eyes read over her face wonderingly and she only smiled in response. Could she see? It was

like she knew he was beginning to find what he wanted. Was beginning to feel good. The

warmth was like a hopeful promise… How deep was this well?

 

A mechanical bark made both of them jump, and Seb sat up while Mimi plopped to the floor,

looking around frantically, then laughing.

 

“Your phone! Oh jeez.”

 

“What?”

 

She shoved it under his hands and the St Bernard was onscreen with a PIN code window.

 

Groaning, he tapped in the number and flopped back on the sofa, covering his face with his hands.

“Fuck.”

 

Mimi giggled. “Okay, but the part before Old Yeller showed up?” She climbed back on the couch

and drew his hands down to untie them.

 

“Green. I gotta switch though. That thing nearly gave me cardiac arrest. Did you know it would

do that?”

 

She pecked his cheek. “No, I just thought the mascot was cute. I haven’t tried that one.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No really, it's for science.

* * *

 

The next day was… 

…Odd.

Sebastian’s thoughts kept wandering over and replaying bits of the night before.

He had a gym appointment with a local trainer first thing in the morning. If it had been like a regular session with Don, he could have lost himself in talk or horsing around, but he didn’t have that familiarity with this new guy. It was all business, so all during reps Sebastian was free to mentally pick the evening with Mimi apart. 

If they’d had more time could they have done more?

No, Mimi was pretty clear she was sticking to slow stages…

Why did he have to screw up the timer? He should have given it a trial run the day before. Everything seemed like a build up and waste of time to get to that one tantalizing spot… And then it was all frustration and disappointment because it was over before he could really examine it or get anywhere.

And what the hell did that even mean? What was he examining? Where was he trying to go?

Back at the hotel right afterwards, he’d just felt an ache. Like an empty stomach or empty heart. It wasn’t a tease or build up fantasy where he could just jerk off. Confused, he’d found himself rolling onto his stomach, face down in the pillow and crossing his wrists behind his back — which made his cheeks burn red and he immediately flopped back over, ashamed, even though he was completely alone. 

 

* * *

 

Now here he was, first with the trainer, then a run, followed by rehearsal with the stunt choreographer, and on and on… He was booked all the way through drinks and dinner with someone Marvel was in discussions with on directing one of the Black Panther movies…

He had no idea when he could even sort out meeting Mimi again.

* * *

 

Late, late, after the dinner, he was able to get online. There was a message waiting:

Mimi: Just checking in? I know you’re busy, so no rush, but I’d be a bad bad guide if I didn’t ask after the first try. :)

Tender Wolf: I’m good. It was good. Today was just a lot of appointments — ug. When can we try again?

Mimi: Be still my heart! (Actually I’m rubbing my hands together like a Bond villain)

Tender Wolf: Lol. I know Wed you’re going to the rope meeting, so I’m trying to look for another opening in the shoot.

Mimi: Gosh. Don’t you just hate that stupid ol’ work that pays the bills? Haha  If Wed is good for you, and you ask me *really* nicely to use more rope, I’ll let you take the place of the Meet-up. ;)

Tender Wolf: Please, pretty please, use more. 

Mimi: Ankles?

Tender Wolf: Yes.

Mimi: Dinner?

Tender Wolf: Anywhere you like.

Mimi: Haha. No sweetheart. I want to feed you dinner! 

Sebastian blinked at the screen. It wasn’t something he’d ever thought about, other than the tired blind folds and strawberries or whipped cream cliched sex scenes, which were definitely not appealing. But somehow he couldn’t picture Mimi treating it like that; like the plastic sensuality of red lit pornos or smoke machine filled music videos.  He remembered her directing him to take the bite of ice cream and how it was more like playing Simon Says.

More like acting. 

This thought slotted something else into place. When he studied acting, there was something about knowing what was expected. Knowing what came next. There was some sort of sense of, was it pride? Reward? Security? He couldn’t say, but there was something profoundly pleasurable to when it clicked and he knew he was doing things _right_. Or when a director would come over and speak low to him about just his work.  Hell, it even carried over to press junkets — he had a reputation for getting distracted or confused, but both Evans and Mackie were like body guards guiding and keeping him on track.  He _liked_ it when Anthony or Chris or Don said big brother-y things like ‘Right here. I got you.”

And there was something about not just doing what he was told, but also not even anticipating what he would _have_ to do next that, especially right now, was even more appealing. If he couldn’t let go of obligations, at least he could take a little vacation from decision-making and the minutia?

Tender Wolf: Dinner sounds great. What are we having?

 

* * *

 

Mimi didn’t disclose what would be served, but she did quiz him on his regular diet, correctly intuiting that ice cream and Mission burritos were definitely in the ‘cheating and only once in a while’ category.  He wasn’t a picky eater… It was fine. One less thing to worry about.

 

* * *

 

On Wednesday, Mimi met him at the door, and crowded onto the stoop with him. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet and making the ‘Time Out’ sign with both hands. 

He gave her a bemused look.“Okay. What is this? Soccer practice?”

“Shhh - shh-shh!  No scene! We haven’t started yet, okay? I want to clear a small change.”

He nodded. “Okay… Is dinner off?”

“No, no, no. But can we trade a shoulder experiment for ankles?”

He looked over his shoulder towards the front of the house, then back at the door. What he really wanted was to go inside to discuss…  …whatever this was, but they had agreed before that her apartment threshold was their starting point where the rules kicked in. At the same time though, he was so disappointed in the wrap up of last time, if there was any way to leverage this into moving things a bit deeper faster…

“Both. We do both.”

She paused, then her eyes narrowed and she grinned and nodded. A second later, she’d vanished inside and shut the door in his face, making him knock and re-arrive all over again.

 

Inside on the coffee table was the original short coil of blue rope, but now it had a twin beside it and there was a folded yoga strap. 

Mimi knelt by an ottoman and patted the top of it in invitation. “Right here love. Science first.”

Sebastian snickered a little, his eyes darting over to the ropes and strap, but he came over and sat obediently. 

She slid his jacket off. “Roll your shoulders for me. Like when you stretch at the gym.”

As he did this, she undid his top button, loosening the shirt. “Good boy. Hands?” She held hers out.  He offered his and allowed her to unbutton his cuffs and roll them up to his elbows.

“Very good. Hands behind your back please.”

Just like that. No more of the slow as molasses lead-in. No more bow knots he could untie with a tug. She was looping several coils over and around until there was a wide band of pressure holding both wrists. When he felt the knot tighten and she stepped around and stood over him, he shrugged and twisted. It was immovable and firm and instantly the deep warmth was there, blossoming in his middle. He blushed, and didn’t even realize he’d dropped his head until Mimi tipped his chin up with a finger. “Eyes love. Hello.”

His face went even hotter seeing her watch him, her mischievous delighted smile. “Hello, Miss.”

He swallowed and turned to look at the yoga strap again curiously.

As if she read his thoughts, she picked it up. “Like I said, science first before we try those ankles…” She unrolled the strap. “I was thinking about what you said about your friends tying you up like a mummy. Some people react to discomfort, or to the restriction, or, well, lots of things. But what you described sounded grounding. Like being squeezed by a big ol’ boa constrictor. So this is a quick and easy way to see if my hypothesis is correct.”

Feeling the strap go around his chest and over his upper arms just below the shoulder, Seb’s head dropped forward unbidden, like his body was already anticipating what was about to happen. Somehow, he made words. “Galileo… would be… proud of you.”

Mimi giggled and worked the cotton braid through the plastic buckle, then adjusted the height once more before slowly snugging it around him.

As the pressure became firm, he felt his arms go light and the warmth flood up his spine. He reeled, his head fuzzy, and it took him a moment to realize he could and should scramble his legs back under him to keep himself upright on the ottoman. Also, he’d closed his eyes without even realizing it.

“Hey. Hey. Color?”

Now Mimi was snapping fingers in front of his face. One of her hands gripped his opposite shoulder and she had his knees corralled between her firmly planted legs, keeping him from slumping over.

He blinked at her confused.

She smiled and patted his cheek. “Hey, I need a color baby.”

“Green.” He managed, because that’s what he was supposed to say…

“Okay.” She laughed. “Wow.”

He had no idea why she was removing the strap —it was fine where it was. It felt good.  He wriggled away from her fingers, but only felt the buckle release and the whole thing go sad and slack anyway. He heard himself groan at this, unbidden.

Mimi kissed his cheek. “Good boy. Eyes here. Good.” She was smiling at him warmly and stroking his hair.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing love. I think we just found your deep sea dive switch is all. Looked like that felt pretty yummy?”

He leaned his head into her hands, and tugged at his wrists halfheartedly. “Yeah…” He sighed. Feeling his arms still pinioned kept the curious warmth stoked; half grounding, half aroused. 

She rubbed her hands up his shoulders briskly, clearly wanting him more alert. “Color?”

“Green.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes, Miss.”

She studied his face, eyes bright and smile gentle, but even as distracted and muzzy with sensation as he was, Seb saw the shrewdness in her expression as she scrutinized him.

A moment later she was undoing his wrists. He started to protest.

“Ah-ah-ah… Who’s the boss?”

“You said you’d do both.” He tried not to huff.

“After dinner. You went under so fast, I’d feel like a heel plowing ahead.”

Under? What did that mean exactly? Still, her concern that he was too willing — that she might not be getting informed consent — that was kind, respectful. She wanted him to know what he was agreeing too, and it reinforced that she could be trusted.

 

* * *

 

_...to be continued_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eek! Yeah, this chapter is a two-parter! I just felt guilty for putting the story back up and then getting sucked into holiday work craziness so much so that I hardly have a had a chance to add to it. Things have hit equilibrium now, so I'll try to update more regularly!  
> And for the kind souls who have stuck with it and commented or kudo-ed, thank you - it means SO MUCH to me. I get that it's not the most popular flavor of ice cream, but wouldn't you rather live in a 31+ flavors world than one with just chocolate, vanilla and strawberry? :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

* * *

 

As part of shaking it off, Sebastian excused himself to the bathroom before dinner. He ran cool water and rubbed it up his forearms as he washed his hands, then splashed his face.

That was weird. Yes. ...But it felt good. 

What exactly had happened?

Was it like an off switch? Like when a kitten is picked up by its scruff?

Hypnotism?

The cold of the water sharpened him up, made him feel more in focus to consider what was going on, but he realized with a jolt that he’d flinched at looking at himself in the mirror.

“Don’t be an ass.” He muttered with a half laugh before examining his face. He squinted and looked closer at his eyes, snickering at his dark pupils. He was pleasantly a little hard in his jeans too — so why didn’t he feel the same push and urgency as when kissing was evolving into stroking and so on?

He wondered if Mimi guessed he was having a little come to Jesus moment in the mirror right now too…

Huffing another laugh, he returned to the living area and found Mimi had set her small kitchen table. Seeing him, she smiled and pulled out a chair and made a little goofy show of gesturing to it like a game show model. 

He smirked and as he came closer, she dusted off the seat with a cloth napkin and patted it.“Right here, love.” She winked. “Color?”

“Green.” He sat.

“Green is my favorite hue…” She kissed his cheek softly and he noted she smelled like vanilla. “Here’s the deal — I do the feeding. You can move, talk, scratch your nose — although I hope you’ll ask me to do that— or anything else that comes natural, but I’m in charge of dinner.”

“Yes, Miss.”

She grinned and closed her eyes a moment, as though savoring the reply — or possibly stopping herself from making a squeak of delight.

He snickered, but the thoughts he’d had in the bathroom hadn’t completely fled him yet… He swallowed. Would this be embarrassing? Humiliating in some way? It helped that she was being playful.  What would he be eating anyway?

Mimi uncovered two plates, and the meal looked very similar to many of his training meals. Grilled chicken, cubed, and bite-sized oven roasted vegetables, both in a light sesame glaze. She spread the napkin over his lap and forked up a small piece of chicken.

No preamble. No baby talk. She just offered it — with albeit a very pleased smile on her face— and he accepted it and chewed, while she watched.

“How is it?”

“It’s good. I love sesame.”

She beamed and gave him another bite.

There was no ‘good boy’ or diminutives here. Nothing to differentiate it from a normal dinner to a D/s game other than that he didn’t lift a finger.  They talked about different favorite foods, spicy dishes and local restaurants. Mimi wanted to know what Romanian food was like. The only lulls were little moments when she snitched a bite of her own meal, or the long pauses where her eyes studied him as he opened his mouth, accepted some morsel and chewed.

“Miss?”

“Hmm?” She mused, brushing his jaw with the back of her fingers lightly before tucking a lock of hair behind his ear.

Seb swallowed and tried not to snicker. “You. You’re, ah…” He looked down, going red. 

“Say it.” Mimi pressed.

“You’re staring.”

“Oh yes.” She nodded. “That’s right. Isn’t that why we like to feed the squirrels or get the little cups of grain at the petting zoo?  You get to look at and touch the animals more if you feed them? I’m sure I’m not the first person to tell you you’re kind of nice to look at.” She lifted one of his hands and kissed his palm before pressing it against her cheek. “I get to enjoy it. Ok?” Her voice was a little smaller at this but she tipped her chin up, smiling against his fingers.

“Yes Miss.” He agreed.

 

Dessert was fresh slivered pineapple and a milky ginger tea. By now he’d relaxed into the rhythm of this ritual: the unhurried way she let him chew, the attentive manner she offered a little more with one open hand hovering just below his jaw in case anything slipped or spilled. It went from odd, to calming. In a way, it was like going into makeup, where he might be half asleep but the crew still worked on him whether he was much help or not. 

Only he wasn’t half asleep. He was completely present and awake in the talking, the watching, the tasting.  He was definitely in this car and on this trip — but Mimi was navigating and driving. 

So… …Did he _like_ it?

That was harder to say.

Mimi was undoubtably enjoying herself, from the way she smiled with her eyes all crinkled up and twinkling. Hell, he even saw her unconsciously open her mouth along with him as he took a bite, as though miming helped him somehow — which was ridiculous, but also sort of cute.

He decided he didn’t dislike it. And there was a certain pleasure to doing something that so transparently turned her knobs. After the initial settling in, he didn’t feel any more self-conscious than getting a haircut or a clothes fitting.

And maybe that was enough as far as understanding it?

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Color?”

“Green.”

He got a soft kiss on the cheek and a squeeze to the shoulder for that. He breathed deep and flexed against the loops of rope holding his forearms behind him while Mimi fussed with the second cord. He wondered if she’d go in for the yoga strap again if he asked her?

But was that adding on in scene? Should he wait until she did his ankles? Did having someone feed you dinner convince you they’d give you anything you asked for? Was he supposed to be micromanaging and second-guessing everything she did in anticipation — or maybe that just meant he was communicating?

In the end, he stayed quiet and watched as she laced his ankles and lower legs together with several coils. “I forgot to ask, do you want me to narrate what I’m doing? I can totally go all Professor McGonagal on you and give you terms for each technique.” She rubbed his calf briskly through his pants. “It’s good to know for when you want to tell a partner what you like.”

“Makes sense.” He nodded. But he’d forgotten the yoga strap the moment he’d unconsciously shifted his weight and felt the ropes hug and hold his legs and — oh christ — combined with the inability to catch himself if he toppled over. He felt a warm throb pulse through him and linger… One he could sharpen just by flexing against the ropes, and that felt really good.

Mimi was snapping her fingers in front of his face again, smirking. “But… Looks like you have a lot of other things on your mind.” She laughed.

“Huh? Yeah.” He smiled and twisted his head away, blushing furiously.

“Hey. Hey. Look at you.” She caught his chin and gently brought his eyes back to hers. “You look lovely like this. Snug as a bug in a rug.”

For some reason, this was incredibly funny.“What does that mean even?” He blurted, cracking up.

She beamed and joined him on the couch, one arm around his shoulders for stability. “No clue. It sounds cute, but it’s probably from something gross like bed bugs.” She wrinkled her nose and giggled, ruffling and finger combing his hair. “Don’t care. Just look at you. I could eat you up. How’re you doing?”

“Green. Good…” He flexed and went red again.

“So happy to hear that, love. Explore. Enjoy.” She squeezed his shoulders. “We can work on vocabulary later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you know those writers who say, 'I'll be updating my ongoing unfinished fic each Monday' and then they stick to that?
> 
> I have so much admiration for them right now. ... Nothing in common with them, but LOADS of admiration. ;)
> 
> Here's hoping the next chapter can be longer (and arrive sooner)!


	7. Interlude

Sebastian held his mark in the background, laying on the floor while Anthony/The Falcon stepped over him for what seemed like the hundredth take. He needed to be still and keep the green screen sleeve on his left arm in place where the crew had arranged him, but as he was laying on his back, it wasn’t too hard. Gerard, one of the Hydra heavies the Falcon was fighting, had bruised his ankle the day before and was having trouble matching the fight choreography on it today. No one was rushing him, but the last bit was taking forever, reducing Seb to a carefully dressed background prop.

“Still good?” A tech asked.

“Still good.” He agreed watching the tech reposition part of his truncated metal arm back into place from where Anthony had kicked it across the concrete.

“Perfect. We’re set.” The tech called to the crew.

“Keep it still. Background set.” Another answered.

Seb took a breath and watched the ceiling, his mind still wandering back to the other night with Mimi…

 

Everything he’d been afraid of, the self consciousness, the apprehension that could block the pleasure, that could threaten humiliation, it had been carefully broken up and swept away, like dispersing a puff of smoke. She did exactly what they agreed to, and as simple as that seemed, that she stuck to their plan was enough — no. It was more. Him laying across her couch, hugged tight shoulder-to-ankle in rope… His head resting on her soft chubby lap, one spread hand cradling the back of his neck and the other, unhurried, finger combing his hair. Every breath against the rope had brought waves of swimming warmth and every flex and squirm a deeper pulse of arousal. He’d reeled and drifted, eyes occasionally flashing back to her from the intensity of the experience, and she’d just smiled and murmured silly praise, staying present with him. Reading his face, his eyes and telling him to enjoy himself.

How babysitting him through that with the agreement to keep her hands and mouth chaste was in anyway fair, or could be interesting for her, was beyond him. But then again, wasn’t that a guy stereotype? Or a vanilla sex in general stereotype? That if there wasn’t kissing, groping and fucking, nothing all that exciting was going on?

It didn’t matter. Like a smooth successful dance with a lead and follow, they’d come together in accord. He’d found someone. Found someone he could share this with who simultaneously held it as the fragile thing it was while also making it No Big Deal. It felt like setting foot on a strange planet and finding home…

 

 

“Who is she?” Anthony was looking down at him and nudging him with a foot.

Seb snapped back to the set. “Who’s who?”

“You’re a space cadet, laying here smiling at the ceiling while they called break to tape that guys foot back together. We’ve been in town, what? Three weeks? And all your down time, you vanish. So I’m making an educated guess.”

Sitting up, Sebastian saw that the crew was helping the limping Gerard to the sidelines. “No, it’s not like that.”

Mackie pulled his Falcon goggles up and dropped down to sit by him. “The hell it’s not. I never get out here and this beats the heat of Atlanta ten ways from Sunday. You haven’t broke with Chris and I once. Not even gym times. Either we’re gonna get our feelings real hurt or she’s something else.”

“That’s the get out of jail free card?”

“Best excuse in the world.” Anthony half smirked. “This is not looking good…” He nodded towards the crew around the Hydra agent.

“Maybe brace it tighter?” Gerard was gritting his teeth in pain.

“No.” The director cut in with a look at the set medic. “You’re getting an x-ray. Make sure it is just a sprain.”

“Fuck.” Anthony shook his head, and Sebastian understood. Shuffling the shoot schedule for an injury could throw off everyone, even domino-ing into screwing up other projects.  

 

By the time he’d changed in his trailer, no word had come on the schedule and he’d texted Mimi a ‘wait and see’ message about their next date. When his phone buzzed a moment later, he fished it out eagerly, but it was a text from Mackie.

“Italian tonight. 8pm Chris is in. Bring your lady.”

Sebastian froze.

What?

The phone buzzed again.

“BRING YOUR LADY” This time from Evans. WTF Mackie, really? His stomach clenched and he felt himself spin around back into the trailer to lock the door and sit a moment.

Buzz: “You in?”

He hastily tapped out a response. “Could you let me ask her?”

Fuck.

Christ. Couldn’t he just have this without having to come up with a cover story for Mimi? Would Chris or Anthony even buy that they were dating? Was that what they should call it? And how big of an asshole did that make him, that he was instantly aware that he’d never been with anyone physically like Mimi. Never turned up anywhere with a date that wasn’t tall and trim in sleek designer clothes. He pulled his thoughts up short at comparing her to the women who showed up at fan conventions…

He fought down the impulse to text Mackie back that she couldn’t make it.

I’m shit, he thought, his face burning. I’m utter garbage.

The next wave of thoughts were the rationalization that it would be best for Mimi to avoid it. That she’d feel out of place if she were the only woman.

He swallowed.

Fumbling with the phone, he thumbed through his texts and tapped a green button.

“Hey! I was just about to text you back! How was beating up bad guys?”

“Ah. Cut short. Look, do you like Italian?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not that I mean to wait until everyone's completely given up on this fic to post an update, it's just been busy, I swear! Here, have some of my brand of smut, okay?

 

 

 

“I could have totally met you down there.” Mimi protested.

Sebastian opened the cab door for her and made a sheepish smile. “Not for dinner. I didn’t want to make you walk.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened a bit, but she hopped in the waiting car.

Tonight she was in checkerboard tights and an a-line black 60’s dress with black bangles and black barrettes in platinum hair which she’d arranged in finger curls around her temples. 

Her eyes cut to him a moment after he sat, and she held her bag in her lap with both hands — almost looking shy. Was he that tense? But then she smirked, fixing his gaze and touched a finger to her tilted cheek, waiting. He quickly bowed his head and kissed her where she directed.

“So what’s the story morning glory?”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re secret agents, right? What’s our cover? Or are you about to lay it all out for your cast mates?”

Sebastian wasn’t sure how to answer. “We’re having dinner?”

“Right. But what’s my back story? What’s my motivation? Did I coach your powderpuff football league? Did we hit it off at a ham radio meet up? I know! I was your understudy in that summer musical production of Cats. I spent all my time praying you’d get a hairball.”

“Who was I? Rum Tum Tugger?”

“Bustopher Jones.”

Sebastian considered. “Maybe you’re my Romanian cousin who speaks no English.”

“But I get to dress up as a vampire, right?” 

“Sure. The sparkly kind?”

She twisted her mouth. “Nah. I’d be more like the fabric and felt kind.  Like the Count on Sesame Street.”

“Perfect.”

Mimi beamed and bopped her head to the cabbie’s reggae music, letting her gaze follow the shop lights in the fog on Taraval. “Seriously though. What’d you tell them?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Anthony thinks I’m gone during all my down time because I met a woman. And he’s right, isn’t he?”

She laughed. “Can’t argue with that.”

 

 

Dinner, it turned out, was an eclectic group of the cast and crew taking over a postage stamp size pasta bar on Valencia. Anthony had brought the stunt team as well as the personal trainer he and Chris had been meeting with, while Gerard, in a velcro compression boot, had been ensconced in the middle with his own personal bottle of red; a consolation prize for being sentenced to crutches.

“The whole downstairs. From the dumpster. People waste tons of perfectly good shit.” Anthony smacked the counter and Mimi laughed and nodded.

Sebastian was relieved by the human buffer, and also relieved that Mimi had deflected small talk from them and somehow plowed right into Mackie’s love of dumpster diving.

“All the flooring matched?”

“Hell yeah. Kitchen and living room. Who just throws that much away?  You can’t top that.”

She took a gulp of wine and pushed her glass back. “No way. Okay wait. Weirdness — I can top that in weirdness.”

“Let’s go.”

“I got a second story from a condemned playground.”

“What?”

“When my building was chopped into apartments, the owners were too lazy to cut a door and include this awkward section of the upstairs for the middle unit and too cheap to put in stairs to give my unit on the back end access. A friend of mine in Oakland sees the city taking out one of those old metal playgrounds from the 70’s — the kind with the rocket ship slide — and we go grab the spiral staircase off it. It’s still powder coated purple.”

“I thought you painted it purple.” 

Anthony raised an eyebrow at Sebastian.

“No!” Mimi gave him a little push in the chest. “I was preserving some heritage!”

“That cannot be up to code.”

“So not up to code. Not even up to the ceiling. We built a frame and landing so we could add a few wooden steps all the way up.”

Mackie toasted her with his drink. “That’s the way it’s done. Your landlord give you shit?”

“We had a rent negotiation because there was suddenly additional square footage, but his kid was one of my students, so we worked it out.”

Sebastian blinked. He had never asked Mimi about her job.

“What do you teach?”

“Mm. Not a teacher exactly. Audiology and speech therapy. We get bounced around to schools, and call the kids students instead of patients.”

“Very cool. Seb, please tell me this woman kept the slide too. Have you been on the slide?”

“Sadly no slide.”

“Yeah,” Mimi shook her head with a sigh. “We didn’t risk a second trip.  But you know, if you ever run across one, let me know.”

 

 

By the time plates of pappardelle and spaghetti were being laid out, Sebastian had relaxed and realized no one was putting he or Mimi under the microscope, despite Anthony guessing earlier he was seeing a local. Just because their activities were in the forefront of his mind most of the time didn’t mean he had the word ‘kinky’ tattooed across his face or that Mimi handed out calling cards with her FetLife url on them. He stopped worrying and began to enjoy his food and the chance to catch up with some of the other crew members. 

Which meant he only faltered a moment when she excused herself and Chris tipped his chin at her leaving. “She’s cute. Where’d you two meet?”

“Online.” Seb took a drink of wine. “Dating site.” Ok. That was mostly true.

Chris nodded with a smile. “She’s fun. She ever come to New York?”

Was that look a bit shrewd on Evan’s face? What did he mean by that?

In his pocket, Seb’s phone vibrated. Now what?

“You never know.” He quickly told Chris as he fished it out and glancing down. 

Mimi had texted him from the ladies room. “Dinner’s been great, but I keep thinking about maybe dessert? My place?”

“Is that the schedule update?” Chris leaned in.

“Uh, no.” Seb caught himself and managed a laugh, which did nothing to help how completely NOT relaxed he now was. His phone buzzed again and he almost dropped it in his fear of what the next text might be. Mimi wouldn't do that, would she? Text something explicit?

Chris’s brow furrowed. “You okay? You know it’s okay.”

Seb’s eyes went wide. What? What did he know? “What do you mean?” He practically blurted.

“You’re all twitchy man. I’m trying to remember seeing you this nervous.” Chris chuckled and gave his shoulder a friendly shove. “If you like her, you like her.”

Was that all? Dear god, what the hell was wrong with him?

Sebastian colored to his ears, relief washing over him as he realized how paranoid he was being. “It’s just different. You know?” He managed a grin. “I need to, ah…” He indicated the phone sheepishly.

Chris smiled. “Oh, right.” He waved him off.

Seb retreated to the end of the bar, rapidly thumbing off a reply. “If dessert means escape, YES Please, Miss.”

 

 

Tumbling into a cab a block away, Sebastian was practically elated. “Jesus. I want to be done with work. I love Anthony, man, but, schedule changes put me on edge, you know? I just want to chill out and regroup, because, bam! You’re going to have to shift gears and you don’t get as much scene prep…”

“We don’t have to do dessert. You want to call it a night?”

“No, no, no. Jesus no. It’s not that.” He laughed, “Please no.” He looked at her, wanting to explain, wanting to ask if it ever got easier, if he’d always feel transparent, like people could see something shameful or twisted inside him, lit up like a billboard. He wanted to ask how he could stop imagining that. “I really enjoyed last time, and I’m… I’m getting kind of — I don’t know — about how quick the shoot will wrap up. And I don’t have someone else to talk to about this. God, I sound like an asshole. We should be able to go enjoy dinner without me feeling like my work friends are wasting the time I have with you.”

“Sweetie. I believe I sent the ‘hey let’s leave’ text? You’re not the only one who enjoyed last time.”

The corner of his mouth hitched up. “There’s still some part of me that doesn’t believe this.” He grinned shaking his head. “What’s for dessert?”

“I was thinking maybe about that thing we’d discussed as a next step?”

His eyebrows went up. “Okay. Really? Yeah—“ He caught himself, “Yes, Miss.”

“Ah-ah. You just said you’re all thrown off not having scene prep. Should we rehearse? Run lines? I think you should do your homework and earn dessert. What did you have coming up?”

Butting his head softly against her shoulder, he sighed into her chest. “Mostly fight choreography.” He groaned.

“Boo.” She tangled her fingers in his hair. “Doesn’t the Winter Soldier get any lines?”

He chuckled, leaning into her hands. “Pretty sure he had more lines before they fried his brain. TV, though, that was tons more.”

Mimi scooted over, neatly slotting herself against him. She tapped his nose then tapped her neck and got a little vampire bite instead of a kiss. She squeaked, “Oh, you’re rotten. No, tell me about that. What was your longest soliloquy?” She saw the driver looking at them in the rearview and made a goofy face at him.

Maybe it was the promise of an extra free evening of exploration, or maybe he was more than a little giddy with relief at successfully navigating dinner, but he found it easy to remember the TV shows he’d done, and described Political Animals with very little prompting.

“Lots of big outbursts and angst - I thought it was so complex playing a gay suicidal addict and to be with the rest of that cast. I loved it — thought it was brilliant stuff—“

“You don’t think that now?”

“I’ve got no perspective on it. The show got canceled, which totally shocked me, and I was so full of it. Here I am studying AA stories and shit and thinking I know what this is all about, you know, ‘cause my co-star is Ellen-Requiem-for-a-Dream-Burstyn and now, hah…  …I can’t see what I was doing as anything other than a soap opera or a caricature compared to her work. But it was great while it lasted. Lots of screen time. I loved my cast mates and digging into it. If the writers did a script change, I was excited.”

Mimi snuggled against him, still happily half massaging his scalp and gripping his hair. She kneaded the back of his neck affectionately. “You ever dig up what she was doing at your age?” She murmured. “Sounds like you got a lot out of it, canceled or not.”

“Heh.” He wrapped his arms around her and heaved her into his lap. “I did.” He nosed her neck softly and she curled against him like a happy house cat.

“Can you remember a speech? May I have some heartfelt misunderstood junkie pain please?” 

To his amusement, lines popped right in his head and he did his best to deliver them in character, TJ Hammond’s frustrated stutter, and angry tremulous voice and all:  “It's Dad and this fricking place. I-I should be home working on the club opening, but I came because you wanted me to. I just, I needed something to take the edge off. Okay? I'm sorry. I know I messed up.”

“Oh… Poor baby.” Mimi giggled. “That’s got it all, just like an after-school special.”

 

..........................................

 

By the time they made it to her door, they were still joking around about Political Animals. He was buzzing, heart pounding, head swirling and he nor Mimi hadn’t had more than a glass of wine over an hour ago. It wasn't alcohol.

Was it that he was getting what he wanted?  He knew she wouldn’t touch him — not sexually at least yet — and he trusted that.  Was that weird or naive? He was an actor. He’d spent his whole life training to work with his cast members, and he decided that was a pass. He knew how to put himself out there and how to trust, right?

“So those were the two big relationships?” Mimi began gathering some things up from the living room, her over made-up eyes big. “You did make out like a bandit on that job. Think about it. Those two women to work with?” What was she grabbing from the kitchen?

“Yeah. They were amazing.” She was waving him upstairs and he hurried to obey. “It made you take everything more seriously. Even just a table read…”

He was still talking as he glanced around the second floor: A mezzanine turned into a sleeping loft with a hall to a bathroom, the awkward length and shape belying how it was recovered space. Mimi had full-size bed with several pink furry pillows.

“All those lines huh? But you don’t have to memorize them do you?” She asked, laying out the items in a row on the coverlet: several coils of his blue rope, a closed wooden box, a bottle of oil, EMT shears, plus a few things she set on a small tea table beside the bed.

“No. It wasn’t as bad as Picnic.” He laughed and shrugged. The objects held his interest as he took off his jacket, shoes and belt and neatly arranged them on the chair Mimi directed him too.

He found himself looking to the top of the weird narrow metal stairs and their glaring purple color. How had he never even asked about her job, her life? Because they were plowing into this. No matter how you looked at it, this was fast, fast, fast… She had told him he had a ‘good ear’ before. Audiology. Listening. Clear speech… He should quit chattering on about his old TV work and try asking some questions…

“Have you ever done a stage play?”

“Mmm.” She shook her head mildly and pointed to a cushion on the floor. “Kneel love. And hands.”

He could see her watching him as he scanned the room and the bed objects again, but immediately met her eyes, blushed and dropped to his knees on the provided spot. He put his hands behind his back, clasping his left fingers lightly in the opposite palm. 

“You, ah you…” He laughed and stuttered trying to finish his thought even as he obeyed. Her soft smile of approval made him duck his head even as his heart raced more. He took a deep breath, chest swelling. “It’s ah, a lot to remember.”

“I bet it is. Lots of words.” She agreed slowly and studied him under her lashes before her eyes cut to the little tea table beside her. She turned to face him, gazing down with a smile at his vivid blush and carded her fingers through his hair. “I think you must need a little quiet time.”

He leaned into her hands, loving the soft drag of nails on his scalp, already slipping. He started to answer, but then stopped and swallowed, eyes widening in curiosity at what this suggestion might mean. 

She met his eyes meaningfully. “Quiet time.” She repeated. “What do you think of that?”

He nodded quickly.

“Just a few more words love.” She reminded him, one finger tipping his chin up gently.

“Green. Y-yes, Miss.” His voice came out hoarse. 

She chuckled. “Good boy. Let’s fill up that mouth.”

What was she about to do? They had talked about this being next… Was now the time? His eyes flew over the objects on the bed… The box?

But she turned to the tea tray and produced a jar of maraschino cherries. Plucking one up by the stem, she held it for him to see. “I’d like you to hold onto this for me. And dessert or not,  I don’t like too sweet a cherry. While I put you together, I want you to suck all the syrup out of this, nice and quiet for me. Will you do that for me?”

He nodded, feeling his neck and ears go red. “Yes Miss.”

“No chewing. I want a whole cherry at the end.” She gave him a measured smile.

“Yes Miss.”

“Good boy. Close your eyes and open.”

He did so, lifting his head up, wondering if he looked like a baby bird. At the first contact of the fruit’s syrup on his tongue, he gently closed and carefully sucked, feeling the tender flesh part and tatter a little as she tore the stem away. He held it pressed softly to the roof of his mouth with his cupped tongue and blinked at her, feeling a slow shudder build.

“Is it good?” She touched the sucked in hollow of his cheek with a sweet smile.

“Mmm.” It came out a small moan as he nodded, eyes already hazy.

“I’m glad. Now shhh.”

 

It was bizarre to him that such a small element could so preoccupy him. The giddiness, the swirling thoughts in his head were gone. Centered and still. He rolled the cherry with his tongue, feeling each little bit of syrup and sweet come from it as he sucked and worked to be gentle with it. But when she began to direct him… Then it was hard with divided attention. He loved the feel of her lacing the rope over his chest and shoulders into a body harness. Of lifting his arms and placing them just so feeling the coils of rope line up covering his wrists and fore arms, then the ones above his elbows, until the final satisfying warm squeeze of them snugging his limbs down to his sides, immobile. If she’d done this while he was standing, the deep shudder it produced might have made him stagger.

But as it was, kneeling like this, he just swayed a little, able to enjoy his favorite moment… He breathed through the pleasurable tremor, then realized with a little jolt that he’d just mashed the cherry to the roof of his mouth.

As she helped him stand and sit on the side of the bed, he quickly tried to inspect and reshape it round again with his tongue. 

Oh crap.

He saw her catch his look — always watching — as she knelt to begin lacing his legs together above the knees, then ankles.

Double crap.

Was that a smirk?

 He tried to suck more innocently looking, but it was useless and he ended up softly chewing and swallowing it. He was burning red by now, and felt himself reflexively stretching and straining into the grounding squeeze of the ropes — for what? Comfort?

Finally, she stood over him, studying her work. He flexed again, feeling the core wave of warmth pass through him over and over at the sensation of being unable to move.

She stroked his hair. “That’s right. Explore, love.” She murmured. “You look so lovely.”

He dropped his head in her hands, but she only continued to card through his hair with her fingers.

“Now love, I’d like my cherry.”

He grimaced and felt his heart pound. Why? It was just a silly game.

“Eyes.”

He met her eyes and huffed a breathy laugh. “I’m - I’m sorry Miss.” He stuttered.

“Did you eat it?”

“Y-yes Miss.”

She made a look of mock surprise and disappointment. “Oh dear.” She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “What will we have to do about that?” She tsked at him.

This was hands down the hardest thing for him to process. He was helpless and every breath, every small twist, turn or flex, reminded him of the ropes presence and sent wave after shivering wave of pleasurable tremors down him. He felt like he was reeling.

“Deep breaths. Slowly.”

He blinked back to himself. Mimi was patiently watching him edge back from getting light-headed, her hand on his shoulder and a gentle smile playing on her lips.

“There we are. Here now.” She gave him a sip of water. “Good. Now then…” 

He sat on the bed, still focusing on his breathing, and watched as she brought the wooden box from the tea table. “I think you need something a little more durable for quiet time…”

She lifted a gag up from the box — a black panel with leather straps and a rounded bulb to fill his mouth. As dark a thing as it looked, it was essentially the same shape as a pacifier.

“Color?”

Seb blinked dumbly. “Green.”

“What shade?”

She waited, studying him carefully.

“Emerald.” He managed.

She smiled and touched the ball of the gag to the juice in the top of the cherry jar until a single drop clung to it.

In a moment, it was slipped into place, parting his jaws, pressing his tongue down, and filling his mouth. He could feel the straps against his cheeks tighten as she buckled it, then ran a finger under and gave a little tug, gently checking the snug fit. Feeling that pull - the control over his mouth - sent a hard warm throb through his middle. Each breath into the ropes echoed it up his spine.

“Mmph.”

“Good?” She caught his eyes, checking in. He nodded, chest heaving.

“Alright, then. Shh.”

She guided him back on the bed to rest in the pillows, then lifted his legs up too until he was stretched out comfortably. His mouth worked at the gag, but all he could do was suck and swallow. It wasn’t going anywhere. He flexed again, feeling his useless weight, a helpless log on the soft of the comforter and mattress, and road through a second deep involuntary, but delicious, shudder.

“There you are love. Anything pinching?”

Attentive fingers rechecked his hands, wrists and feet for any over tightening of the bonds with his shift of position. He shook his head hazily.

“Good.” She murmured. “Eyes closed now. Shhh.”

He closed his eyes and was awash in a softer warm tingle and felt his muscles turning to warm water. Her fingers gently raking through his hair assured him she was near, watching over him, ready to release him. Something in him unfurled and his head lolled back in the pillows as his spine shivered and went limp. 

It was floating on gentle, almost imperceptible waves. 

It was cool grey fog on his face.

It was soft hazy colors with no shape behind his eyes.

And it was an earthy sense of weight, of irresistible gravity and pure warm calm until each body part faded away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I moved and it's been crazy, so this has been floating in limbo. So many apologies. I don't know anyone in this town yet other than my roomies, so comments, if you're enjoying this, would mean THAT MUCH MORE. ;) <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evil, evil, reality steps into the timeline for a film shoot. 
> 
> Stoopid reality.

Eight days.

Gerard’s messed up foot put him off of it for two weeks. A lot of his screen time was being minimized —which sucked for him — but the solution reached to keep everyone else to their original time commitment was to slice the exterior work in Oakland to the bone and pick up the rest on studio sets back in Georgia. Seb’s adjusted schedule set him here for only eight more days — enough to get the essentials, and then he needed to join the crew back at the studio. 

He grimaced and fished his phone out from where he sat in the makeup chair while a couple effects people applied scar material to the back of his shoulder. After one raised an annoyed eyebrow meaningfully, he sheepishly took the phone into his right hand and let the left drop limp and still for them.

 

Tender Wolf: So yeah, that’s it. The stuff coming up immediately are night shoots. That’s what I wanted to ask you about.

Mimi: Boo. That’s pretty quick. What were you going to ask? I can’t meet on weekdays.

Tender Wolf: No. No. I wouldn’t ask. Tomorrow’s Sunday though. I have to be on set by 5.

Mimi: Oooo… Brunch!

Tender Wolf: Very funny. I’ve heard how long it takes to have brunch in this town.

Mimi: Good point. I *think* I can squeeze you in tomorrow. Pick up where we left off? ;)

Tender Wolf: Can we talk about that?

Mimi: Oh? Now I’m intrigued.

Tender Wolf: I want to move forward — I want

Tender Wolf:

Tender Wolf:

Mimi: Still there?

Tender Wolf: It’s hard to type it. In a room. With makeup people floating around.

Mimi: Pretend that’s your wildest fantasy. Secret dirty texting in front of your crew.

Tender Wolf: Will you touch me?

 

He stared at the phone, waiting, then held it screen down to his thigh while glancing around the room. His heart was hammering painfully and he immediately wished he hadn’t typed it. So blunt. He could have waited. An hour or two, there would have been a moment, a hurry-up-and-wait time where he could have snuck in a call or at least not been in the center of several people’s immediate attention, even if all they cared about was continuity matching the look of his shoulder and appliances rather than his face.

Swallowing, he made himself look at the phone.

Mimi: I’m guessing by that you mean in your actual swimsuit region?

Sebastian choke laughed so hard he fumbled the phone, and immediately windmilled both arms trying to catch it.

A chorus of oh shits and God-damn-its greeted this.

“Christ. I’m so sorry. God I am so so sorry.”

“Go finish your call. Jesus. It’s going to take twenty minutes to fix this.” The makeup effects lead, holding the tattered scar tissue appliance, shoo-ed him out of the trailer. 

 

………………..

 

Mimi had agreed.

And quickly, between his scenes, they’d negotiated.  He wanted to be done up the way he’d been during the cherry game, only undressed.  Mimi talked him down to omitting the gag and staying clothed.  “So first off, airways and speech being clear are non negotiable for this. I can let it make a very special guest appearance for a little flavor if you like, but not for the main event.”

“Okay, but the clothes? How does that work?”

“Oh, that’s just selfish. I get to unwrap the present. Wear a button down, okay? And a belt.”

 

…………………

 

Sunday morning at 9am hardly seemed like the time for this, but since when had he been able to keep any part of his life to a regular world routine?

Mimi had obviously showered and painted her face, but then had gotten right back in her nightie and robe. 

Over breakfast of coffee, toast, fruit and eggs, they went over what was negotiated, now declaring the thresh hold of the loft bedroom as the start of scene. All of this and the speed of putting it together added to the air of unreality. Sebastian tried not to think about also being at work tonight or whether this would mess him up for it. You had to make decisions and seize opportunities…  Mimi set an alarm for 2 pm so they didn't have to look at the clocks. Sebastian tapped 2:30 into his safety app, feeling it as an insult to Mimi, even though it’s her rule…

 

…………………..

 

And he’s here. This is happening

Just as before, arms snug to his sides, legs together above the knees and from calf to ankle, laying in the center of Mimi’s bed.  His cheeks are flushed and he’s half hard just from the anticipation and squeeze of the ropes.

Smiling down at him, she studies her handy work and murmurs praise.  “Color, love?”

“Green.”

She unbuttons his shirt and rucks it open, pulling to work it aside under the ropes, which hold it, rumpled against him. Her hand explores his chest, his belly, smoothing over his skin. He can’t stop it, can’t escape it and can’t predict where her caress will go next. He swallows, feeling his back arch and the ropes bind down and a gasp escapes him. He wants the gag so bad. Something to fill his mouth and suck — something to make it okay to make all the desperate noises building in him. Jesus, she hasn’t even touched a nipple…

 

…Now she pulls the belt from its loops in one smooth whip of her arm, not taking her eyes off his. 

“Sit up.”

He digs his heels into the mattress and levers his caterpillar bound form up obediently.  Smiling slyly, she slides his belt around his shoulders, and pulls it snug. Sebastian blinks, head lolling, a little eager nugget inside of him anticipating the pressure, the release. But it doesn’t fit. There’s not enough length left to buckle, and Mimi chuckles at him and his sad look,  as he watches her sling it aside.

“Poor baby. Here now. Here.” She finds the yoga strap on her equipment tray and in moments, she has it tightened gently around his shoulders. And just like that, Sebastian no longer has the ability to stay sitting up. Holding the strap in the middle of his chest, and with a hand behind his neck and head, she helps slow and guide his flop back into the pillows. The warm shudder waves through him, deep, and he wishes again for the gag. Something to make him not responsible if a whimper or helpless noise comes out. 

It’s too much. 

Mimi’s left hand, behind his head, firmly grips a fistful of his hair while her free hand smooths over his chest, thumbing and circling one of his nipples. Her eyes read over his face, smiling. He’s in her hands. She hasn’t kissed him or gotten below the waist yet, and he’s arching and squirming with how much his cock aches. And that just makes it better and worse, to constantly feel the ropes, his body made useless.

She tugs his hair, pulling his head gently to one side and chains evil kisses and soft bites up his neck. He stays down, not fighting her hand steering him like a puppet, and tries to stifle, but fails, an escaping deep moan.

“You like that, don’t you? I’ve got you. Give me a color, love.”

He pants and squirms, bordering on sub verbal, then hears his voice: “Y-yellow.”

The hand in his hair loosens and becomes a soft cup against the back of his skull. The other tugs at the buckle of the yoga strap until it loosens. He realizes absently that his eyes are closed and Mimi is rubbing his shoulders, first one and then the other while she cradles his head and neck. “Sweet boy. So sweet. Is that better?”

And it is.

“Yes, Miss.” He breathes.

“Firm hand isn’t what you want now, is it? You’re such a good boy, I need to take special care with you. Nice and gentle…” She rubs his head and begins to slip her hand free, and Sebastian turns his head and nuzzles it, eyes closed, deep reeling breaths as he falls deeper…

She strokes his cheek, tilting his head to face her. “Can I see your eyes, love?’

He opens them and finds her carefully studying him through the fog.

“There you are.” She smiles, and he smiles back, turning red. “Color?”

He’s a big fucking baby, a little hair pulling and he’s so furiously turned on and addled he almost tipped into panic… but Mimi’s solid. He’s naked with pleasure and want, and it’s okay. She loves that he’s showing her this. Loves his embarrassed flushed cheeks, his desperation and little huffed breaths of surprise and wonder and pleasure. He’s safe. She wants him to have this… “Green, Miss.”

“Good love. “ She purrs and carefully straddles his thighs.

From here, her manner becomes slower, more deliberate — telegraphing her movements and making her touches more predictable. Both hands work similarly on his left and right, symmetrical, as she strokes his hair, his neck, rubs up his torso and teases his nipples a little. Stretching over him, she palms both round caps of his shoulders and leans forward, pressing him into the mattress — something he’s done with partners in yoga class — and he feels his upper back release more.

He sighs with pleasure as warm tingles radiate across his shoulders and base of his neck. He likes her weight on his thighs, confining and solid. Still holding his shoulders, she leans forward and kisses the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his brow. Small soft things, but claiming.  Tilted over him like this, she gently levers her hips, and lets her pubis press into the mound where his poor cock is dully aching, still trapped in his jeans. 

A full moan escapes him, and she rewards him with more kisses, a nuzzle to the neck and another rock of her hips. “So sweet.”

She continues like this, in no particular hurry, until he is digging his heels into the mattress and squirming to buck his hips against her. But she slips back with a smile,  a target he can’t reach. A little keen of frustration escapes him and Mimi chuckles. “Shh. Here you are…”

Her hands slip open the jeans, then smooth over his hips and down, parting under the waist band to run over his ass. In a moment, he feels the denim and cotton shucked down to his thighs and his throbbing cock bobs free in the cooler air. He gasps as Mimi’s soft hands glide back, warm, to stroke over it.

He can’t move, and it is both the best and worst thing ever. His brain flips over with the anticipation, the want, and he flexes again and again — a feedback loop that sends him deeper, turns his muscles to warm water and his rock hard erection and its need to the only thing he can feel or think about.

A steadying hand spreads over his belly and then the other, slick and warm with lube glides up him, thumbs circling the sensitive head. He moans and bucks in her hand — but he’s useless mostly against the ropes and weight of her on his thighs.

Mimi doesn’t say a word, only begins evenly stroking him, while tilting her center of gravity to press his hips and ass down into the mattress. 

If he makes more noise or says anything at this point, he really doesn’t know. Pinned down, eyes shut, and waves of helpless pleasure as she strokes, presses, swirls and firmly jerks until he’s shuddering and bucking through a deep release that leaves him starry-blank and tingling.

 

He doesn’t know how long he stays fuzzed out in after glow. He doesn’t care.  Now Mimi is cleaning him with a warm washrag and loosening ropes as she goes. She has the comforter pulled over to cover the areas she’s not working on.

“Hey sweetheart.”

“Hey.” He smirks stupidly at her and she grins.

By the time she’s done, the ropes are on the floor along with his belt, shirt, jeans, and the yoga strap. Mimi has him tucked up and sipping coconut water from a tumbler glass while she strokes his hair. “What sounds good and right now, love? A cuddle? A nap? Skies the limit.” She asks softly.

“Those.” He says clumsily. He’s spent and weary, but in a good way, and for some reason, being held sounds nice… “Both of those.”

She sets the empty glass aside and slips in beside him. He nestles into her arms and worms around to get comfortable before settling with a sigh. Small but steady arms around him. He’s ridiculous, he knows,  but too satisfied to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno why I feel I should point out that I know next to nothing about film shoot scheduling and that San Francisco hasn't really been used for an action movie since, like, um, Bullitt? And while, yeah all the other places mentioned are real, it's only because I'm super lazy about world building. (The unnamed pasta place on Valenica is Barzotto.) Also, me babbling here is a total deflection to the fact that I just posted something that contains an actual orgasm for the first time. I'm gonna go hide under the bed and blush like a nun. Feel free to point and snicker.
> 
> Update: Okay, in a super weird thing, when I came back to proofread, AO3 said the chapter hadn't posted and was still in preview mode? Wha-? I hope it's fixed now... sorry about that if it caused weirdness on your end!


	10. Chapter 10

………….

Sebastian was on set until about 2:30 am and made it back to collapse at the hotel by a little after 3.  He showered and set an alarm and tried to lay down and set all his thoughts aside, but it was like he could feel the minutes ticking by. He had a flight out the following Monday. 

That was it.

Everything had shifted so fast, from napping with Mimi to racing back to the hotel to meet his ride, then immediately into the night’s work (thank god, only green sleeve stuff and no extended time with the effects makeup crew) he really couldn’t work through detailed or considered thoughts about the night before. It just felt like something incredible glowing in his interior. Some new knowledge ripe with possibility and promise. Revisiting it was just a wordless wave of emotion and he had to blank it out of his mind so The Winter Soldier didn’t slip into a goofy, cross-eyed smile. He tried to channel the energy, the raw emotion, and sharpen it, as he rehearsed the beats of his fight choreography with Gerard’s stand-in. And the physicality of throwing punches and kicks did seem to help. He went at it harder, knowing he’d have to temper it down for the level needed for the scene.

One week.

The mix of excitement and elation wrangled against knowing that all this, the time, was quickly running out. 

And now, in the silence of the hotel, he was tired, but his head and body were buzzing and  he couldn’t sleep. He took two Benedryl and told himself he would call or text Mimi as soon as he woke.

 

…………………..

 

Mimi: Hope it’s not too early to make your phone chirp. :)  Wanted to see how you’re doing/feeling today.

It was after 1pm when Sebastian woke and saw the message that had come in a little after noon.

Tender Wolf: You checking up on me? ;)  I’m great. But my flight out is Monday. That’s eating a hole in me.

He set up the hotel room coffee maker and brought in the cooler bag of training meals that had been delivered outside his door, trying not to carry his cell with him and stare at the screen.

About ten minutes into mechanically eating his pre-packed breakfast, his phone chimed.

Mimi: Great is good. So glad to hear that. <3 We really ought to have a debriefing after our last mission, you know?

Tender Wolf: I think you already debriefed me.

Mimi: *Snrk* omg so bad! Dad jokes and sexy talk don’t mix.

Tender Wolf: Don’t care —You can totally do it again. 

Mimi: I’ve created a monster. Seriously, do you have time to talk? Can you call me?

 

“I wish I could meet up with you to do this.” Mimi told him, “but this is fine if you’re in a good place to talk.”

Sebastian felt a twinge and made himself lighten his grip on the phone. “I’m in my room. It’s fine. Should I be worried?”

“No! No, not at all. It’s just we’ve been plowing ahead and you’ve told me a lot of things you wanted to try out, and, well, here we are. You said you wanted to see if this was you. And sometimes things feel good in the moment, and then feel different afterwards. Have you been able to process a little?”

It sounded so clinical compared to how they’d been in scene, but Sebastain understood, even if he was scared of where this was going. He took a slug of coffee and a deep breath.

“I loved last night. I don’t know what else to say — but I’ll try… I think I know what you’re getting at…I had to do a really fast about-face last night, you know, going right into work… So no, I couldn’t really be alone or have time with my thoughts, and then I couldn’t sleep. But it wasn’t bad. I mean, that was just being amped up — not weirded out over our date. I’ve been so, I don’t know…”

He heard Mimi murmur agreement, encouraging him to go on.  

“I’ve been so _happy_ about how that went.” Oh god, he hoped she couldn’t hear the hitch in his voice. “And I have right now — a few hours before I head back to set.  I’m scheduled tonight, and tomorrow night. Wednesday is day shoot.  I’d be tired, but maybe we could meet then? Wednesday night?”

“I can make that work. I think this would be a better talk in person really. And by then maybe that’ll be enough of a break, the emotional stew can settle.”

Sebastian felt a pang of fear and disappointment. “Mimi?”

“Mm?”

“I want to talk. I want to be able to think about it and figure out what this feels like, but I also feel like we only just got here and now it’s basically over.  Do you know what I’m saying?  I can text from a set. I can call you from New York, but I’ll only _be_ here until Monday. I know this probably isn’t a safe or smart thing to ask for — I know there’s probably some rule or best practice about having a cooling off period — and I mean more than just our initial agreement to take our time — but last night… I…” He couldn’t put it in words, and the fact that he was struggling to felt like evidence that taking things slower was the wiser choice.  “You’re the guide on this, but… …Do you know what I’m saying?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“Mimi?”

“I’m sorry. I’m just thinking really hard about the situation.  We’re adults. I’m not your teacher or whatever — it’s not about how it’s perceived or some correct code of appropriate or honorable conduct, you know? It’s about not getting confused and recognizing there can be a difference in how someone feels about an actual person and how someone feels about what that person does to or for them. It’s always about agreeing to some risk but minimizing the chances someone really gets hurt. Physically or otherwise.” 

Sebastian was quiet, recognizing she was talking out her thoughts. “You’re saying you want to try to focus and enjoy play as well as we can this last week and put off the talk down until afterwards,” She continued, “To do that later over the phone or on chat.”

“Yes.” He couldn’t stop the laugh of relief in his voice. “That’s exactly what I was trying to say. Is that a terrible idea? A deal breaker?”

“No no. It is fast, but we’re big kids and it’s adjusting to the situation…  …And I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t exactly what I wanted too.”

 

………………..

The rest of the schedule came down.

Sebastian had Wednesday and Thursday nights free, if he canceled his Thursday gym appointment.

“This qualifies as a workout, doesn’t it?” From where he knelt on the floor, waiting, he craned his neck to the side, trying to see what she was laying out on the bedside table.

“It certainly could, love. Eyes front please.” Mimi turned around and parked her rump on the edge of the table, blocking his view of the toys. 

Sebastian’s shirt was off, and Mimi had spent about an excruciating hour lacing a shibari belt that covered his midriff and encased both forearms to it, flat to his sides. He couldn’t bend his elbows or move his hands anywhere useful, and the rope was stacked and woven so firm it practically braced his lower back. By contrast, nothing touched his bare upper trunk or shoulders. He could shrug or roll his shoulders, or twist and turn his neck, and he could feel the cool air of the room on his skin.  But he couldn’t catch himself if he stumbled trying to stand up and he couldn’t shift his weight or direction without feeling the firm, unyielding squeeze of it solidly holding him, all focused on that one key area. Each little motion of just keeping his balance was like when he would choose to flex and feel the shudder and grounding warmth of the ropes before, only now, he couldn’t choose. It was a surprise, a reminder, an immovable fact, lit up by unconscious tilts, weight shifts to stay upright, or his deeper breaths becoming ragged as he got more turned on.

Kneeling like this, without his shirt, he felt so exposed, and the self consciousness threw every sensation into sharper light.

He stretched through his spine and shifted his knees, gasping when this minor physical protest with the rope produced a deep throb of arousal. Instinctually he looked to Mimi.

She tipped his chin with one finger back forwards towards the bed. “You keep peeking over here. I feel like I haven’t done enough to keep you busy. Do you need some help?” Her fingers gently combed through his hair, and he leaned into them, closing his eyes.

“Yes Miss.”

“Color?”

“Green, Miss.”

She smiled and lifted a wide black band of fabric. “Maybe this will let you focus?”

When the blindfold fell over his eyes, he bowed his head forward to let her tie it. It was stretchy, with the interior lined with soft velour, making it eat up the light completely and fit to the contours of his face. The room was gone, all was black, and twisting his head around wasn’t going to do a damn thing about it.

He huffed and shivered, feeling another deep shudder.  Mimi kept her hand on his shoulder and squeezed before smoothing it back to rub soothing circles in his back. “I’m not going anywhere. How could I let something so lovely out of my sight?” He felt himself sink and loosen, feeling deep relief at these words, and the calm touch.  “What color do you see, love?”

“Green, Miss.”

“Good boy.” One hand was on his brow and the other on the back of his neck, and he wanted to drop into them, but knew better. They felt so steady…

He realized he was trembling and trying not to flex again. Focusing on the hands, the empty black made it hard to balance, to feel when he leaned or unconsciously drifted enough to start to loose center of gravity and tip over. Mimi wouldn’t let him fall. He knew she wouldn’t,  but he still struggled with how a bit of fabric was doing this, turning it all precarious in an instant.  He huffed, and managed to cover a whimper with a sharp whine, embarrassed at how intense he could feel himself ache.

A cheek rubbed against his. “Should we get you to the bed?” Came a whisper in his ear.

“Y-yes Miss.”

Arms corralled his shoulders. “I’m sitting on the edge of it. Lean forward to stand up. I’ve got you.”

He did as he was told, tilting against her as he stepped out of the kneel and rose. She smoothly guided him to turn, sit and held his shoulders as he pushed with his heels to lever back and let her lay him into the pillows.

“That’s better.” She stroked his hair gently.

It was more than better… After what felt like swaying in open air, edgy and nervous, the soft but solid plane of the mattress beneath him was indescribable. His spine went limp and his head lolled in the pillow like a marionette unstrung. He was only vaguely aware of Mimi lacing his calves together, and that only seemed to complete his sense of sweet security. He couldn’t make himself flex or test against the ropes anymore, only breath evenly, feeling their snug fit with every intake, immoveable.

When the mattress dipped with her weight and then went still, he came back to the room, turning his head uselessly, listening for her.

“Miss?”

“Right here. Right here. So lovely.” She cupped his cheek and he dropped the weight of his head to rest in her hand. “Color, love?”

“Green.” He managed. “Please, Miss?”

“Please what?”

“Please touch me.”

“Of course love. Of course.”

 

The mattress dipped again as she slipped over and carefully climbed over him to rest on his thighs. She leaned over him, hands and forearms framing and cradling either side of his head. She nuzzled his cheek, his ear, placed soft kisses and playfully nipped his earlobe, which made him gasp and laugh.

“You needed a little wake up, I think.” She purred. “Might need a little more,”

Before he could respond, the room shook and echoed with what sounded like a submarine dive alarm. 

“What the?” 

He felt Mimi brace and sit up stock-still in panic and he struggled uselessly a brief second before he froze and moaned, realizing what it was.

“Oh shit. It’s that app. I-fuck —I forgot to change the timer after Sunday.” He lifted his blind head awkwardly on a reflex, then dropped it back with a groan.

“Here, here.” In a second the room reappeared and Mimi was dropping the blindfold onto the table. “Well, crumbs.” She reached for the EMT shears.

“God no! Please no.” His eyes went wide and darted from her hand to her face.

“It’s okay. Shit happens.” She soothed, laughing a little. “We’ve got a minute,”she added working the scissors under the rope at his wrists.

“No, look, don’t. Don’t do that.” He wriggled like a fish.

Her smile shrank. “You have to turn it off.” 

“You can. Just grab it. It was a mistake. Please. You can put in my code.” He groaned. 

“What?”

“Just don’t cut this off. Not yet. Please.” He twisted, lifting his head and shoulders desperately as he watched her turn from straddling him and pick up the phone.

She held the cell, frowning down at it.

“One, Two, Three, Four.” He blurted. “That’s the code. J-just put it in.”

Her eyes flashed back to him.

“Oh my crap. You picked one anyone could guess?”

“That’s it. Please.” He watched as she tapped it in, then dropped back limp as the canned marine horn sound finally, blessedly, stopped. The screen turned green under her hand with a happy chirp. “Oh thank god. Thank you.”

Mimi reached over and set the phone on the bedside table before slowly climbing off him and the bed.

He looked up at her sheepishly, breath heaving into the ropes, and tried to offer a little smile. “Am I in trouble?”

She began undoing the knots at his middle. “No sweetheart.”

“Then what? Wait. You don’t have to — It was a mistake. I just didn’t want…”

“Shush. Red.”

He shushed and dropped back, looking up at the ceiling, then was completely shocked to feel hot tears brew and leak from the corner of his eyes. Mimi wiped them and continued removing the ropes.

 

 

……..

“Was it because of the stupid pin code?” He asked miserably, watching her back as she assembled tea. They’d moved downstairs to her kitchen table. Sebastian had put his shirt back on and she was wearing a green robe with pandas eating bamboo on the back; the kind tourists bought in Chinatown. On the little round table in front of him was a plate of untouched pecan sandies.

“No -” The pandas bobbed with her steps.

“But you’re mad…” He interrupted.

She turned holding the teapot and fixed him with a sad look, but said calmly. “I’m not mad. But I think you might be a bit.”

“It was just a little mistake.” He protested.

She shook her head. “You have your own agency. If you don’t take using the rescue app seriously, that’s your decision - “

“I trust you.” He balked angrily.

“Let me finish. It’s not about the pin code. First, the rules are, if we break scene, everything stops. That has to happen, no matter what, every time so that we both know the rules matter and will always be honored. That’s part of being able to trust each other in the situation. I’m not mad that you made a mistake with the timer. And I’m not mad or disappointed or anything else that you asked me to put in the code — you were enjoying things and didn’t want it to stop — people say all sorts of stuff in those moments. But that’s what the rules are for. To navigate those grey moments. Like protocol.”

She set tea in front of him and he stared down at it, digesting this.

He knew all this. Thinking about the rules, and dynamics, and what came next, were what he chewed on during every free moment he had to himself, and now the first time he started to feel he had this down, he screwed up. If there was anyone to be disappointed in, it was himself.

“What else?” He asked tensely, feeling some of the indignation drain out of him.

“You told me what to do.”

He looked at his hands without knowing why, the full weight of what his behavior might have meant or felt like to her settling on him. Was he the bossy big shot? The movie guy who could demand what he wanted when he wanted it? Even to the point of dictating the timeline because of his job and travel? They barely knew each other and despite the initial comfort, that short time of their friendship meant both were still watching, aware the other might reveal more true colors. Maybe this was who he had really become.

Sebastian sighed, and managed to look up. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

Tucking up her robe, she sat at the table too and nudged the milk towards him. 

He took it obediently and doused his tea half-heartedly. “Does this mean we’re done?”

“Tonight? Yeah. ‘Fraid so.”

“No, I mean…” He swallowed painfully, and managed to wave a hand around indicating the future and beyond.

“What? Uh, fuck no. I get to think of a way for you to make up for this. What do you think about that?”

He looked up hopefully. “What can I do?”

“Oh no. No you don’t. I get to think about this. Plan for tomorrow. You get to wonder.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Thursday:**

He’d felt jittery, hard to settle when he arrived.

“You’re worrying too much.” Mimi shook her head at him. taking his jacket to toss over the back of a chair, before grabbing his hand and tugging him along after her.

“No. It's not worry.”

“Okay. But I can see it. You’re wound up somewhere between ‘what are we going to do’ and putting ‘Oh my God, this is our last night’ in capital letters.”

He laughed and ducked his head. “Okay fine.”

Mimi smiled and sat him on the couch. Then she stood over him, hand to chin and tapped her foot. “Yeah, we’re going to need to distract you. Keep you real busy…”

 

* * *

 

 

Sebastian knelt on the cushions arranged in front of the chair, bent forward, gently kissing Mimi’s inner thigh. His legs were free to shift, but the dark blue rope harnessed his chest. His arms were laced together, though widely, behind him, wrapped elbow to wrist in a dragonfly sleeve, and several more loops encircled his shoulders chest and upper arms, snugging them against his body. It felt so grounding, so immovable and secure, he was flushed with a pleasant dreamy warmth from crown to crotch.

Mimi was sitting up and forward on her vanity chair, carding her fingers through his hair. A small smile played about her lips; she clearly loved watching him work.

He slowly chained kisses in a delicate row up the soft skin, occasionally raking his teeth in a soft nip, rewarded with a shudder and some goosebumps. This needed to last. To be done right. She did so much to make him feel good…

Even to this. He told her he liked encouragement, guidance, and she was giving him little pleased moans between a quiet litany of praise. “You look so lovely right now… Such a good boy. That’s so nice. So patient… I love that — that there…”

He nuzzled into the thin cotton of her panties then let his warm breath puff over her, feeling against his shoulders how her legs tensed as she resisted squirming. It was so close and humid… She’d already soaked the cotton and he drug the tip of his tongue over the delicious damp scented area, pleased to feel her fingers grip his hair to control herself. Moving to her other thigh, he began to lavish it with similar attention.

“Jesus. Such a good boy.” She purred and smoothed his hair.

He wanted more of that though — the squirming. Knowing that he was pressing her buttons. That it teased and felt right. But there was time. He kept working the other inner thigh, delighting when the skin and muscle jolted or shivered under his lips.

At long last, he nosed back into the middle, pressing kisses to the cotton, each one pushing down a little harder, before he pulled back a little and gently bit, letting his teeth rake just hard enough to be felt by what was under the fabric.

Mimi’s hips hitched and she gasped, trying to bite off the noise and only succeeding in squeaking a little. Sebastian felt an almost painful throb of arousal at this, and he nuzzled into her a little more insistently, before pulling back, all the way back to the beginning of her inner thigh, all the way to just behind the knee.

He felt her hands tighten in his hair and he smirked, realizing she was resisting tugging his face back to that more sensitive spot. 

She’d told him to worship her thighs — and he was. But that place in the middle was attached and centrally located and smelled so fucking good.  Jesus. Did giving her oral count as penetration or fluid exchange? Definitely fluid exchange, right? What if he made her come through her panties? That was a little league trophy or a merit badge at least…

Her breath had become ragged and she was having more trouble not wiggling around. Her hands were still gentle in his hair, but when he drug his teeth over her again, slowing to ensure they made contact with the little peak he felt at the top of her opening, she cried out and rocked her hips before catching herself and forcing herself to plant in the chair.

A thought occurred to him and he stopped, burying his face against the soft chub of her inner leg, trying and failing to stifle a snicker. 

He felt her hands slide down to his shoulders. “What’s so funny love?” She tipped his head up with a finger beneath his chin, her eyes warm and affectionate.

“I almost asked you for a color, Miss.”

She grinned, fingers digging under the ropes of the body harness and tugging it more snug. “Green. Kelly, emerald, chartreuse, pea green, olive green, lime…” She sang, giving the harness a firm shake and Sebastian felt the hard throb again, a twitch and jerk in his already stiff aching cock. Jesus fucking Christ. He buried his face against her thigh biting back an animal groan. She leaned over and breathed in his ear: “Again love?” 

“Please Miss…” He gasped.

The harness went taut again and he felt his hips roll, then buck the air desperately. 

“Get back to work.” She purred.

He tried. He really did try. 

Working his way back to her middle, he nuzzled deep into the swatch of pink cotton and raked his teeth over it again, trying to growl, but — Mimi had one hand cupped around his head, fingers tangled in his hair, and her other hand was down low between his shoulders gripping the body harness — and his growl turned into a deep keen as he helplessly shuddered and fucked the air a few more times. Her breath hitched at the sound he made and she arched her back and pressed into his face before she caught herself and planted again.

“Up baby. Up.” Her voice was hoarse, but steady.

He was so hard and heavy, it was awkward and achingly painful, but he managed onto one knee with her standing and steadying his shoulder, then got the other foot under him.

His legs were a bit stiff. He’d been down there a while.

“With me. Here.” She sat him on the edge of the bed and turned him a little where he could prop a shoulder on the head board, then she half kneeled and half straddled his outer most thigh. “I’ve got you.” She leaned in, almost breathless and cupped a hand on the back of his neck, kissing his throat, his cheek, then very softly, the corner of his mouth while keeping her hand firm. “Me, then you, love. You did such a good job. Christ…”

It was hard to follow what was happening. He ached and he could feel Mimi’s knee, just resting under his balls — a gentle tease of pressure — and her center a hot damp presence wrapped around his trembling, tingling thigh. He tried to return the little pet kisses, but he was gasping, his hips wanting to rock, trying to find contact, find friction.

She slid her hand down the front of her panties as she rocked and teased herself against him, then he felt her tremble and clench, pressing against his bound chest, her cheek against his as she cried out softly. 

She rocked against him gently a few times as she caught her breath. “So good, sweetheart. You were so good for me. So lovely.” She her voice small and breathy. “Color, love?” 

“Green please. Jesus Mimi. Please. Please, Miss.” He was so fucking hard, he wanted to keep begging.

He felt her nod against his cheek, and her hand behind his head became an entire arm along his spine up to the his head, she shifted to scissoring his leg, pressed against his side. He could feel her belly just above his hip and her free hand was folding down his jersey boxer briefs until his poor throbbing cock escaped. She wrapped her fingers around him gently, giving a few tender introductory strokes. He pressed into her hand, panting in frustration, wanting to buck, wanting to dive in. 

He couldn’t though. With the rope and her legs around him, she set the pace and drug it out a little, until he was keening and pleading and rucking himself against her knee until he felt the building pressure from down deep clash with the shudder coming down his spine. His conscious thoughts were sucked away, flipped over and sucked down like a rip tide, and there was nothing but the white out of pleasure, making his back and spine arch like he was an electric current. He cried out, spilling all over her hand, and desperately rode out several swelling, then receding, waves of the the orgasm.

 

Still quiet and gentle, she made him roll over on his belly and immediately released his arms. What she did to free them after what seemed like so much complicated macrame was a mystery to his fuck-addled brain, but in a short minute the rope was a loose lumpy bundle in the sheets which she swept to the floor. Undoing the harness from around his chest and shoulders took a bit more, but then it was gone and he agreeably rolled over to flop into the pillows while she massaged his shoulders, arms and wrists, murmuring praise softly. Somewhere between his brows was a tingling warmth, like a fuzzy cloud was just touching his third eye. He felt so loose and limp and perfect, and hearing a soft voice confirm all of this… Everything was perfect, delicious, without hard edges or worries… Just soft and heavy and tingly… Oh dear god, I’ve gone stupid. He mused, but the thought just made a dumb grin cross his face, a grin Mimi only answered with another little kiss at the corner of his mouth.

That was in a script somewhere. Where was that? Peter Pan? Mrs. Darling and the kiss at the corner of her mouth… the one none of the children could get to, like a box within a box within a box…  the one reserved just for some secret someone…

By the time he’d started chasing down the half remembered bits of Barrie from his high school drama days, he was drowsing, half asleep. 

Mimi quietly cleaned them both up a bit and before she stroked his hair to try to make him look at her. “Drink a little, sleepy head.”

“Mm’okay.”

“You’re perfect, love.” She agreed softly, “Now drink a little. House rules.”

He stirred and sipped some of the coconut water she held for him. “You finish it. House rules.”

She smirked and downed the rest when he pressed it back to her, then slid up next to him. “A nap love? I forgot to ask. Can you sleep over, or do I need to set an alarm?”

He reached up and tucked a curl of her hair behind her ear. “No alarm.”

She gave him a little grin and leaned into his hand. “How lovely.”

“Did I make up for yesterday?”

She bit her lower lip and nodded, trying not to laugh. “And then some. I may owe you some change.”

“No way.” He mumbled agreeably, putting his arms around her.

She happily nestled onto him, laying her head on his chest and squeezing one his hands. But after a few minutes she slid down to lay beside him. Already half asleep, he made a little noise of inquiry.

“Better not sleep too tangled up. Your shoulders got a good stretch.” She tugged the covers up to their chins.

“Mm.” He nodded not opening his eyes, content with the warm weight resting beside him.

 

* * *

 

 

“I did some research work with adults on mediating side effects of different medications — anti psychotics, people who’d suffered strokes. Things that made different motor speech patterns difficult…”

It was about 9 o’clock and he and Mimi were side by side in the kitchen fixing breakfast: she scrambling eggs and he washing and slicing fruit. She’d donned the green panda robe again, but he decided not to hold a grudge against it. He was wearing a raspberry one with peacocks on it that was too short for him.

“But you didn’t stay with that?”

“Nah. I wanted to go back to child development.  I think it was because of where I did my undergrad work. I went to San Marcos, which used to be a teachers university and still has a lot of that focus.”

“Texas?”

She nodded. “You’d have loved the drama building. The campus was on an old fish hatchery and they kept the ponds. The drama building was a round dome in the middle of them and you had to cross little bridges over a moat to get to it. It got nicknamed The Turtle.”

Sebastian smiled at this and carried the coffee pot and fruit plate to the table. When he looked back, Mimi had a hip cocked and was smirking at him.

“What?”

“I really think the gym socks make the ensemble. Ug. I hate you. You can wear anything.” She sighed and brought over the pan of eggs and plate of toast. “The bad thing is, as much as I love the city, the population here may push me back to that work. Probably lucky to have the stats under my belt.”

“What do you mean?” They both sat and began fixing their plates.

“Not a lot of kids here. The upshot is California is 100% down with keeping the programs funded, but the bad is San Fran is more of an ’adults who don’t grow up’ population. Lots of transient career people with no children or older folks who are dug in — did you know they freeze property taxes here? Anyway, yeah, I never thought in a city this size speech therapy would be such a competitive sport.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed.”

As they ate, he quizzed her some more about where she’d lived and offered her a high five or fist bump when the age of moves, or cities stayed in, lined up with his own.

“How long have you been here then?”

“Mmm. About six years now. But I can claim to be local since I’m from Santa Rosa.”

He studied her face and reached over to brush a crumb from the corner of her mouth with his thumb. “It’s like that in New York. Not deep in the neighborhoods, but for seniority and bragging rights among the transplants, you know.” He watcher her sip coffee, her eyes lowered. “You know. There’s a lot of kids in New York.” He brightened at this thought.

She smiled sadly and shrugged. “I’m sure…”

“I’m serious. You could at least come check it out.” He looked at his watch.

“How are you doing on time?”

“I’m okay.” He hated this. He had a pointless lunch meeting and by the time it was over Mimi would  be at her job. “I’m gonna change and call a car to be on the safe side, then we can finish coffee.” He stood and pecked her cheek before jogging upstairs.

 

When he returned, Mimi had cleared the table and started a fresh pot.

“I’m dead serious about you checking out New York. With your schedule, you get two, sometimes three days off in a row. I could help with flights.”

“I think it’s a little too soon to plan.” She said quietly. “Later.”

He looked confused. “Why later?” He took the mug out of her hand and put his arms around her, tried to spin her playfully like they were dancing.

She followed, but then grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Hey. Hey, slow down now.”

The eager energy drained out of him and he dropped into the chair at the table.  “What? Please. What’s going on?” He waved for her to join him and she did, scooting forward to look him in the eye. “We can talk about this. Jesus. The other things we’ve covered — tell me what’s going on?”

Mimi swallowed slowly. “Don’t. Please, don’t.” She looked down at his hand, lifted it with another firm squeeze and then pushed it into his lap.

“Don’t what? We can work something out - there’s flights, but I can help if that’s the problem, and yeah, it’s messy, but I want-”

“I can’t do this right now. It’s too soon. You haven’t let the dust settle. We haven’t given any of this time or talk to really see where we are.”

“Is that it? More of the ‘things might look different in the morning’ problem? I’ve never done this, felt this--”

“And if you let yourself get comfortable talking about it, any number of wonderful people would probably bend over backward to give it to you, sweetheart.”

He felt his stomach and heart take a fearful drop at this, but refused to think why. “You don’t know that! You don’t know that it’d be the same — or that I’d even want that. Jesus. Why are you pushing me away?”

“‘I want. I’ve never done or felt this.’” She parroted back to him. “Please listen to me. I haven’t asked you for much — in this whole arrangement —but I am begging you not to make me have this conversation now. Not until we could have at least a cursory chance of perspective.”

He started to open his mouth, but then closed it, studying her bright, welled-up eyes.

“You can’t build a relationship on believing you’ve found the only person ever who’ll entertain your kink. You can’t believe you have no choice! I’m not saying that’s what’s happening. I’m not, I swear, and believe me, I hope — but it’s a common problem. Can you respect and understand that fear?”

Sebastian said nothing, but his hand snaked forward over hers again, covering it softly.

Mimi bit her lip and looked down a moment, stiffening, then with a breath, she met his eyes. “Look at me.  Have you ever dated someone who looked like me?”

The nakedness of her voice, of the question, made his heart hurt. Of course. The constant jokes. The chipper way she framed everything… She wasn’t titanium, but she was damned smart about being scared. “That doesn’t matter to me,” He whispered. “You’re lovely.” He reached for her cheek, but she gently batted his hand down.

“It matters to me. I have a right to protect myself. Have you ever gone out with anyone who looked like me?”

“No.” He admitted, the misery of saying it out loud writ plain on his face.

“So please, consider this my area of needing to go slow. You’re an adult. I’m an adult. I need us to treat each other like friends. To speak plain. And to avoid some hurtful and pretty obvious things.”

“Mimi…”

“I am what I am. I won’t ever be tall and thin or, hell, even fat enough for some people. Even actors can’t be all things - you know that - and it’s stupid and a waste of who you are to try. But if you think for one second I’m kidding myself that the trappings don’t matter? Socially? Trust me, I know. What decent people in the scene get out of me is what’s offered. Period. Give and take. There’re others that think I should be grateful for any attention I get — because dressing like a parakeet means I’m obviously desperate for it — or they think I get off working my ass off just to facilitate an experience for them — their choice. Their fantasy only, and that should be great. Like I’m thrilled to get a participation trophy… But I’m not some hungry attention whore, or anyone and everyone’s den mother, and my self esteem is just fine.”

She softened her voice and scrubbed sudden tears off her face. “We’re friends, right? Let’s not open that can of worms. I don’t want to pick it apart or try to find blame. It’s no one’s fault. If we make good on all the promised conversations about what we’ve done so far, that’s great. After that if we want to keep chatting and find a hole in the crazy schedules to meet up, let’s do it. But let’s not plan or promise it now. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, we can at least walk away with a good memory and no resentment.”

Sebastian swallowed. “So you’d still… ? Even if we’re not dating-dating. Not even in the same town?”

“That’s what I’m trying to say.” She nodded. “If it’s confusing or hurts, we can just say so and drop it, but I like our time together. I think we’re good. And I’ve never gotten to play super heroes before.” She sniffed and tried to straighten up.

He considered her a moment. She was asking for patience. Something she’d doled out to him in spades. And even now, the look on her face… He frowned a little.

“Even if I’m not Burt Ward?”

“Especially since you’re not Burt Ward! Good gravy! He’s old enough to be my dad! Maybe granddad!” She flopped forward to hug him and he caught her and squeezed her in. “But I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to try on some tights.” She added in his ear. “You have really great thighs. Who do I bribe at Marvel?”

“Dream on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the official ending. (thank god!)  
> Thanks for reading.


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 100% gratuitous sick fic. 0% porn.

 

They did continue to chat online, and to text. 

As the promotional role out for the latest film chugged along, Mimi got texts and  postcards from China, Japan and New Zealand.  She countered this by finding ridiculous legging and tights to photoshop onto a Golden Age Bucky Barnes: Kiwi bird leggings for Aukland and electric blue with screaming kawaii sushi people for Tokyo.

Mimi: Very Important Question: Where can we find this double breasted blue onesie?

Tender Wolf: I’m not modeling that.

Mimi: Oh, button, I never said it was for you! ;D

 

He wrapped that up by December and sent her photos of him making goofy faces struggling at his neighborhood the gym. She sent him a selfie with a whipped cream covered peppermint sundae at Salt and Straw with “Wish you were here.”

Tender Wolf: I never knew you could be so cruel.

Mimi: Nonsense. It’s waiting right here for you… When you come visit. ;)

 

* * *

 

Two other shoots outside of his Marvel contract were offered and finalized in January. A film in Australia, a comedy in Vancouver, then the promotional tour for the next Black Panther and Ant Man movies and his training regime to prep for shooting the next Captain America. By summer,  his agent scheduled him to do a west coast string of convention appearances as part of his joint contract to promote all MCU films.  Looking at his schedule, he texted Mimi.

“I’ll have a few days after that. I could stretch it out three days before I’d need to be back in New York. Would that work for you?”

“Yes, yes and also yes.”

 

 

But as Murphy’s Law would have it, by the time he’d gotten through San Diego and LA, he rolled into the Moscone Center in San Francisco with a fever, chills and pounding headache. The dreaded Con-crud. He propped himself up with extra coffee, Sudafed, and antihistamines combined with forward momentum, and somehow managed to pull off being a little incoherent, but still pleasant to visitors.

By the time the car dropped him at the hotel after the final day of ComicCon , he couldn’t deny that he was really sick. He didn’t know what else to do but tell Mimi he’d need to cancel their plans.

“You sound awful. I’m so sorry.”

“It sucks, but it happens. You spend solid days hugging and shaking hands with a jillion people. I should just crash at the hotel with room service.”

“For your days off here? No. That’s so unfair.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Ug. Not to _you_. To ME.  You’re robbing me of a prime chance to fuss, slather you in Vics and make you drink ginger ale from those little bendy straws. Not to mention spoon feed you chicken soup.  Both my ovaries want to punch you right now.”

“You’re kidding, right? You don’t want this. I’m sweaty, snotty and gross.”

“Awww. We’ve all been there.”

“You really want to get your Florence Nightingale on and risk catching this?”

“My feet are _itching_ for some support hose and white orthopedic shoes. I want to hear ‘yes nurse, no nurse’ right now.”

“Yes nurse.”

There was a long pause.“Holy shit. Really?”

“Really. Yes nurse.”

“Oh my god. I am catching an Uber this instant and coming to get you. I want you laying down until I get there. Do you understand me?”

“Yes nurse.”

 

He wondered if he’d made a mistake as he flopped back on the hotel room couch and waited. He was stuffed up, achey and his throat hurt. Beyond that, he couldn’t quantify how tired he was. It was like the moment he escaped the Con, his feet had touched the earth for the first time in what seemed like months. Everything was glazed in an air of unreality. This exhausted, he was likely to get irritable and might not feel up for being attentive or playing around.

But once in the car, he stopped worrying. Mimi was low key, only giving him a hello squeeze and asking if he’d taken anything yet, then quietly texting a shopping list to an errand service. She let him drop his head back and ride quietly.

At her apartment, she sent him into a hot shower. “The steam will help. Even if you just stand in it for a bit.”

By the time he got out and had wrapped up in a towel, she had the bed turned down, some pillows stacked up and was assembling a vaporizer. When she saw him, she patted the mattress next to his laid out boxers in invitation. The shower had helped open him up, and seeing the waiting bed along with someone who would  take care of things for him suddenly seemed a much better plan than holing up in the hotel room to fend for himself or calling on strangers from the front desk.

He joined her and slipped the boxers on. She unfolded a fresh towel. “Let’s get your hair dry.” 

And that was nice. Good like her brushing his hair, for her to rub and stroke it dry with the thick terry cloth. And he didn’t have to do a thing; he just hung his head and leaned into it.

When she was satisfied that he wasn’t too damp headed, she bade him lay back under the covers and produced a thermometer. “Under the tongue.”

He huffed a laugh. “You’re really going through with this, aren’t you?”

“You had any doubt? Now, what do we say?”

“Aaaah?” 

“Funny. Nice try.”

He tried to control his smirk and be serious. “Yes, nurse.” He managed to meet her eyes and accepted the thin device under his tongue.

“That’s it.” She smiled, and pushed his hair back, spreading a hand on his brow. “You are pretty warm. Have you eaten?”

He shook his head.

“Hungry at all?”

Another shake.

She nodded. “Okay. Fluids and cold medicine then.” 

The front door buzzed and Sebastian looked at her askance. 

“It’s just the groceries and what not. Be right back.”

He dropped his head and closed his eyes, listening to Mimi thank and tip the delivery service.

 

Returning, she removed the thermometer and turned it in the light to read. “102. Woof. I hope some of that’s from the shower.”

He shrugged wearily and settled into the cool pillows, listening to her rustle through a Walgreens bag and make a trip to the kitchen. When she came back, he cooperated when she tipped his head up to swallow a shot of green cold medicine. It felt good coating his throat, as did the chilled sports drink offered through a straw and the cool washrag folded over his forehead. Who cared if this made him an enormous baby? Right now it was downright luxurious.

He tilted his head over. “Thanks Mimi.” He croaked.

“You’re very welcome. It’s no fun feeling rough.” She whispered back smoothing his hair. 

 

He slept like a rock, until very early, the waning cocktail of caffeine from the day before forced him to heed the call of nature, and he groaned and rolled out of bed to pad to the bathroom. Finished, he blinked at the shower, considering… It had helped the night before, but right now he just didn’t have the energy. Instead, he washed his face and clumsily brushed his teeth with the extra toothbrush Mimi had set out for him. Everything hurt, and he felt dazed and numb, but at least a little fresher. Wondering vaguely what time it was, he stared out the bathroom window at the heavy fog and cold drizzle outside. Good ol’ San Fran… It looked like he felt.

Mimi poked her head in the open door. “Everything okay?”

“Huh? Yeah.”

She frowned a little, then took his elbow and guided him back to the bedroom. “I think you’re over tired. It’s okay.”

Sebastian didn’t argue. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to train, or go to the gym, or make meetings. He didn’t want another rotation of too small meals of bland dry chicken and steamed vegetables. And he didn’t want to think about how achey he’d felt for so long. It was usually from working out, but he was so used to it now, he’d ignored getting actually sick. 

Sleep. He wanted to sleep.

Mimi was patting the pillow. “Alright soldier, back to bed.”

“Yes, nurse.”

She was smiling, a sad, bemused look, and he realized she wasn’t in scene. She’d deemed him compromised enough she wasn’t playing with him. “You poor kid.” She lifted up the comforter and sheet for him in invitation, and Sebastian obediently sat and lay down. “You nap. Long as you want.” She told him quietly, covering him and rubbing his back through the blankets. “I’m gonna fix a little lunch for later. Alright? Lights out soldier.”

He sighed and slid into the soft cocoon, closing his eyes. The humidifier was easing the headache, and Mimi’s room was pleasantly dim and quiet. The only sounds were the soft white noise of the fan and mister, and the occasional faint rumble of the nearby Muni train. He relaxed into the smooth sheets and warmth, feeling safely hidden and muffled, remote from the noise and demands of the outside world. In moments, he was fast asleep again.

 

 

When he woke, it was around 2pm according to the bedside clock. Mimi had made him chicken soup with rice and hot tea with lemon and honey. There was even ginger ale and saltine crackers.

“You pulled out all the stops.” He snickered.

She smirked, arranging the tray on the bedside table. “I figured baked brie and salmon mousse would sound pretty gross about now.” Pushing his hair back, she kissed his brow. “Nothing’s too good for my patient.”

He scooted up and sat against the pillows and headboard so she could set the tray on his lap.

“Do I get to feed you or do you want to rally?”

He shook his head. “No rally. Do your worst. …Or best.” He blinked wearily. “Not sure which we’re going for.”

The sad smile returned. “You’re still pooped, sweetie. I’ve got you. Here…”

He settled back and let her spoon him bites of the soup. It was simple, but good. Soothing. The tea and crackers were a nice idea, but he didn’t want them really. Warm soup and cool ginger ale through a straw were better…

“You still with me?” Presently, Mimi was brushing his hair from his forehead and letting the backs of her fingers rest there, feeling for fever.

Sebastian blinking back from an almost doze. When did that happen?

“You did good on lunch.” She told him setting the dishes aside. “I think a shot of Nyquil and another nap are in order.”

He nodded and grimaced. “Call of nature first.”

She gave him a hand up and when he returned from the bathroom she had the blankets turned down and medicine poured for him. He crept into bed automatically and she held the dosing cup for him to drink before he cratered back into the pillows. Mimi slipped the covers over him and tucked them around him, giving his back another rub through the blankets. Bed had never felt so good. He drifted out again.

 

* * *

 

 

“Mostly I kinda want to cram a whole lasagne into you. Something really rich with meat and spinach and tons of cheese and carbs.”

Sebastian snickered into a Kleenex. “Anyone told you your dirty talk is the best? Shit, I miss lasagna. If I could taste anything I’d sign up for that.”

It was the next day and he was beginning to feel better. Still tired, and now blowing his nose left and right, but better. Mimi had cranked up the humidifier, threatened again to smear him with Vapo-Rub, then ultimately invaded the rumpled bed and nest of tissues for a snuggle, bringing along her laptop to stream movies.

She pecked his cheek. “I’m adding it to the to-do list. At the risk of sounding like a Jewish mother, don’t they feed you? I think you look a little skinny.”

“I’m not trying to gain like I did for Civil War… And when other offers came in…”

She nodded. “Strike while the iron’s hot. I get it.” She put her head on his shoulder. “Probably just got too tired. Poor thing.” She rubbed his back again, smiling to feel him lean into it. “You picked something yet?”

He rubbed his cheek against the top her head. “Mm.”

“‘Mm’ what?”

He closed the laptop. “This just isn’t what I’d hoped our break would end up like.” He laughed a little dryly. “I’m sorry. Are you disappointed?”

Mimi lifted her head to look at him. “Of course not. I’m a little miffed at your breakneck schedule, and obviously I don’t want you to really be sick, but since you needed a break, I’m glad I got to look after you.” She studied his face. “You’re disappointed, aren’t you? You haven’t talked to anyone else about what you like — have you?” She asked quietly.

To his credit, Sebastian colored red, but didn’t look away or stammer. “No. I couldn’t figure out how and be safe. It’s not like I have a world of free time. And… And look, I admit it. When you think in chunks of months and weeks of schedules, it’s easier to put things off and prioritize what you have to do. I kept thinking I’d find a few days and see if I could come see you.”

As she settled back in next to him, he couldn’t tell what she was thinking; only that her hands were gentle stroking and finger combing his hair, massaging little circles at the base of his neck. “Yeah…” She sighed finally. “I don’t think I really gave you credit for the whole ‘it’s complicated’ excuse before. Not how busy, or how much scrutiny you’re under.”

Sebastian blinked at her, a little wide-eyed.

She tapped his nose. “Oh, don’t think I’m going back on anything else I said — I’m just admitting you’re in a tough spot with the whole safety and privacy thing. I’m not used to thinking of people wanting every stinkin’ thing for their public consumption — you know, being that nosey. I’m sorry.”

“Are you saying you might come to New York then?”

She sat up and crossed her arms. “Maybe.” She allowed.

Sebastian withered into the pillows and gave a little theatrical cough into his hand. “Please, nurse?”

“Oh, you rotten…” Grinning, Mimi grabbed a pillow and made as if to smother him with it, holding it over him in threat…  Then tossed it aside. “Jeez. Who am I kidding?” She sighed with a laugh.

“Really?” He watched her climb from the bed and rake his balled up tissues into a wastebasket.

Standing over him, she narrowed her eyes, hip cocked. “If you’re a model patient, we’ll talk.”

He bit his lower lip, eyes crinkling. “Yes, nurse.”

She fussed over fluffing the pillows and straightening the covers. “Good boy.”

 

He was beyond a model patient. In some ways, it reminded him of going into character for work, except that it wasn’t work. It wasn’t fully acting. Mimi shifting into scene and being the bossy caregiver only accentuated it, but something small and tense in him unfurled and let go, no rope required. There was no need to worry about the time, or about deciding what to do, or anything at all, simply because she told him not to. She would take care of it.  Just as when she assured him he’d feel better soon, he believed that, and felt patience and relief at the words.

It was out of his hands. He was safe here. He could trust Mimi, who just wanted him to rest, eat and recharge, and she would worry about the time, or his meals and drinks and medicine. If it was another form of sub drop, it was primal. Or necessary. Maybe her telling him to try to sleep made him instantly ready to drowse because he needed it, but couldn’t admit that to himself? He didn’t know. 

Her showering him with encouragement and praise for taking aspirin or drinking juice or submitting to having his chest rubbed with eucalyptus should have been silly — and admittedly, it was — but it also made him feel good — stoked warm and cherished — so he couldn’t care. Not really. This was their private game, which she was enjoying just as much, judging from the tender looks she gave him. He wondered if it would have been different if he hadn’t actually had a damn cold… but again, ultimately he couldn’t care.

 

“What would we do in New York?”

It was day three of his break. She’d bundled him up in his jacket and added one of her own thick scarves and led him on a short walk to the beach. It was still gray and foggy, but the breeze and salt air felt good.  They sat on a blanket high on a grass dune above the flat expanse of beach proper where they could see some joggers, a dog running and a couple guys in wet suits test the waves.

“Anything you like. Have you ever been?”

“No.” She admitted smiling a little shyly.

“Oh man, where to start…”

“Could we go to your gym?”

Sebastian’s eyes widened. “My gym?” He laughed. “You want to work out?”

“Oh no, no, no… You don’t mess with perfection. But sweaty guys horsing around? I know it sounds terrible, but I’d go and watch, you know, for you.  For morale support.”

“We can do that. You can yell out reps if you want. Really get your bossy on.”

“Oh, see… Now you’re talking.”

“Okay, and then New York pizza.”

“That sounds very important. You gotta eat after training.”

He nodded. “So important. Central Park? Broadway show? You want to do a little of the tourist stuff?” He snaked an arm around her and felt her curl against him with a sigh.

“I wouldn’t say no.”

 

THE END


End file.
